


Let Me In

by WodensSkadi



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage, Bottom Roadhog | Mako Rutledge, Caning, Chastity Device, Cock Rings, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Femdom, Humiliation, Jamison uses science to explain why Mako has the perfect bod, Light Sadism, Lingerie, M/M, Mako destroying restraints is Jamison's sexuality, Masochism, Mild CBT, Mild sensory deprivation, Mild tit worship, Nipple Piercings, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Over stimulation, Platonic BDSM, Prostate Massage, Prostate Milking, Punishment, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sex Toys, Size Queen Mako, Subdrop, Voyeurism, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-01-22 01:31:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12470488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WodensSkadi/pseuds/WodensSkadi
Summary: Mako wants a partner that he can be intimate with but finding the right match has been difficult. So he comes here to find release and to surrender his control. He prefers not to tempt fate by dating anyone that he would be forced to interact with in case things fall apart. He needs the club more than he needs a boyfriend. Mostly. Sex, on the other hand, is totally welcome and he’s imagining how skilled this stranger, who goes by the name Jamison, would be at it.





	1. House of Bricks

He’s incapable of cognitive thoughts, only recognition of his senses being stimulated. He is a creature of feeling and instinct. Harsh, ragged breaths tumble between his heavy lips. The panting was all that much louder in his own ears since the noises are trapped inside the thick rubber mask strapped snugly around his head. He can taste the salt of the sweat running down his face as the damn thing acts as a furnace, boiling him alive. He glances at the brightly dressed individual that’s walking around his hulking frame and he shuts his eyes. Even if his senses weren’t currently overwhelmed, the garish colors would offend him. He listens to their heavy footfalls instead and allows some of the tension in his body to dissipate. 

Later on he’ll remember that he heard the whoosh of the cane’s approach before it’s strike, but all he can focus on now is the blinding sting of his thighs and the deafening crack of the bamboo against his skin. He grunts loudly in pain. A mocking chuckle is his response before three more blows rain down against his fleshy ass and legs.

“Come now Little Piggie, I thought you wanted to squeal for me.”

He snorts in defiance and sways his large hips as best he can in all of his restraints. His aforementioned spread legs are shackled at his ankles with heavy cuffs. The man’s wrists are bound with a thick and noisy chain that’s attached to the big pink collar around his massive neck.

“I am not a good loser. No mercy.”

He regrets his show of insubordination immediately as the next blow glances off the twisted, pink pig tail that adorns the end of his plug. A high pitched keen explodes from his throat as the plug is viciously slammed against his prostate.

“Very good Piggie! Now kneel.” The cane hits the back of his knees and his legs collapse beneath him. With a loud groan he barely keeps his torso upright. This waves of vicious attacks from the kendo stick always leave him reeling. And this is the tenth round he’s endured so far.

The wax is back. The intense heat is now welcome as it soothes sore muscles that have grown tight from standing awkwardly for so long. A noise not unlike a purr rumbles out as the wax is dripped and poured in cascading arches along his powerful back. 

“Hooley dooley mate.”

The grating voice is the first thing that breaks through his sub space haze. With annoyance he finally opens his eyes again and glances at the man standing slack jawed before him. He’s normally at eye level with people when he’s kneeling but this man is tall enough for him to be forced to gaze up at. The man’s pupils are blown wide so he’s not sure of their color but they seem to be totally focused on him. He watches the man take a shuddering breathe to reign in the vibrations wracking his body. His eyes don’t leave him though and his gaze feels predatory.

“That’s an impressive hog you got there Zarya.”

“He is blue ribbon pig.”

The tall man circles him and Zarya and his eyes never leave his body. The newcomer is lanky and broad shouldered. There’s a shock of platinum blond hair sprouting from the top of his head. Probably dyed. Standard black clothing. Loose fitting black denim below a tight velvet hoodie littered with superficial silver zippers. He’s so focused on the grinning stranger he misses the beginning of Zarya’s question: “-hours ago?”

“Bloody customs delayed me arse from entering after me luggage set off every alarm,” He cackles.

“Jamison! Were you so foolish as to bring your work on a plane?” the huge woman that has been working him over for the past two hours sounds horrified. His mind is only half paying attention as he turns the name Jamison around in his head. 

“I’m not a total dipstick!” Jamison yells indignantly. “But all me fake cocks bout burst from me carryon. I got questioned about being some damn prostitute! Had to learn these yanks about the finer points of milking a man’s prostate and how variety is the spice of life! You can’t just shove any ole thing up an arse and expect an eruption. Ya gotta tease and torment, maybe use a vibrator and let em just squirm on it.”

The sadist currently allowing hot wax to pool at the small of his back chuckles. The large man shivers despite the heat enveloping him. There’s a small chime that sounds below and he freezes. As do the two individuals watching him. Zarya bursts into uproarious laughter and squats down. 

“Little Piggie agrees!” Zarya grabs the metal cage encasing his hardening cock. There’s a small bell dangling from his chastity cage. It’s main purpose is ornamental, he happens to think it’s a cute addition. He never expected it to betray him in such a fashion. It’s mortifying. The overwhelming shame of an adorable little bell announcing to everyone that he enjoyed Jamison’s story makes him glance anxiously to the loud man. 

“Of course he does! It’s something a sheila like yer self wouldn’t understand!”

“I never get a rise out of Little Piggie,” she states. There’s no bitterness in her voice. Zarya is frequently his partner. She’s an amazing Domme and has expressed how much she enjoys scenes with him. There is just zero attraction between them. Their scenes are 100% power play and an appreciation for each other’s physical strengths. It’s a rush for both of them but if he had to compare it to anything he’d use a gym workout over a romp in bed. He’s honestly just incredibly homosexual and there’s no amount of muscle Zarya could gain to stir any interest. Not that she would want to stimulate that side of him. She’s as gay as he is and he’s confident his tits are just as sexually unimpressive to her as her musculature is to him.

He’d prefer a partner that he could be intimate with but finding the right match has been difficult. Anyone that he’s been involved with romantically did not understand his needs as a submissive. In fact, most partners when discovering this side of him, assumed he would be dominant. The strain of not having his needs met destroyed any serious relationships. So he comes here to find release and to surrender his control. He prefers not to tempt fate by dating anyone that he would be forced to interact with if things feel apart. He needs the club more than he needs a boyfriend. Mostly. Sex on the other hand is totally welcome and he’s imagining how skilled this stranger would be at it.

Hands are inspecting his cage and when he’s looking at Jamison he can’t help the way his body leans into the touch. Zarya never holds back physically when they play – he’s the only person she feels comfortable using her enormous strength on – but he hasn’t felt this gloriously exposed in quite some time. Jamison’s eyes haven’t stopped boring into him since he first spoke up and it’s unnerving as hell. He feels his chest constrict and he desperately commands his lungs to take slower breaths. He’s not a greenhorn and has had plenty of people stare at him inside and outside the doors of this club. He’s also sure that he’s plenty older than the young man in front of him. And Christ, he gets off on humiliation for fucks sake! But Jamison’s wild eyes are twitchy and overwhelming and it makes a spark of anxiety crawl up his chest and scratch the back of his throat.

He wheezes through his mask and the hands on his chastity device pause. “Give me your status Little Piggie,” commands Zarya. The lack of disappointment in her voice soothes his frayed nerves. He takes a deep rattling drag of air before calmly letting it back out. Crisis averted.

“Six,” He grunts out.

Jamison watches on in fascination, sharp canines biting his thin bottom lip when he hears the massive man finally speak.

“Good job. Now go clean yourself off while I chat with my friend.” He feels her gloved hands unlocking the chain wrapped around his wrists. He’s frozen as she moves behind him to unlock the cuffs from his spreader bar and he finally looks away from Jamison. Normally their sessions don’t end so abruptly. She’s capable of pushing him a lot farther than this. Did his arousal offend her? He thought they were beyond such things but it’s not something that happens between them so he feels unsure. “Use your inhaler,” she comments lowly behind him. He relaxes immediately despite the frustration of a lackluster finish. Beating him black and blue was within her comfort zone, watching him suffer an asthma attack was not.

He uses his hands to push himself to his feet and purposely ignores the man in front of him and patiently waits with his arms held out in front of him. Zarya piles all of his gear into his hands. They always use his custom pieces since none of hers fit him. Plus, using a partners gear feels too intimate to him. His chastity cage and pig tail remain his to remove in privacy. His skin feels uncomfortable now that the wax has cooled and hardened on his skin. He’s grateful for the chance to go scrape it all off.

“Thank you Domina,” He rumbles before lumbering away.

-

“You always introduce people mid scene with their bits out for everyone to see?” Jamison reclines in the plush booth seat opposite Zarya with a wide, amused grin stretching across his thin face. 

Her neon pink hair shakes in the negative. “Nyet. You arrived late.” She looks at him disapprovingly and crosses her thick arms over her electric purple corset. 

He squints back at her, in part due to the reflection coming off of her latex attire, the rest because he doesn’t appreciate her tone. “I already told ya! Me cocks was confiscated! And before ya start your ear bashing, I didn’t bring those,” He sniffs with offense, long nose pointing up. “I shipped those separate. Besides, I didn’t think you’d have the porker on display when we first met! I know I’m a root rat and all but that was a show pony of an introduction.”

“You did not appreciate the show?”

“Now I didn’t say that. I just didn’t know you wanted me to jump the bloke when ya mentioned meeting a friend.”

There was a long pause between them before they burst into equally loud laughter. 

“I am not serving him up to you. He is an excellent partner. I actually thought he could help you test product. How you test is none of my business. I prefer to see him bend to strength, not lust.” Zarya places her gloved hands on the table. Jamison tries to ignore the garish shade of blue, despite its loud tone. He didn’t give a flying piss about fashion but sometimes he questioned if his friend was color blind. He hopes her massive friend is not as drawn to neon and pink as she was want to do. ….although he might be cute in pastels ; that pig’s tail had been damn adorable.

“Oi, so what’s his orientation? He a sub, or does he live in a cage like a pet? Noticed the animal theme.”

“I like pigs,” a deep voice chuckles.

-

The large man smirks as the blond jumps before whipping around to find him looming over their table. Those intense eyes are back to staring. 

“Jamison, this is Mako, he’s a submissive,” Zarya offered since the blond had made no move to do anything but drool.

Mako’s smirk morphs into an amused smile as Jamison jumps to his feet and thrusts his left hand out in greeting. His palm dwarfs the other man’s hand but long fingers still grip firmly to shake his. He can see Jamison trying to get a closer look at his face but unfortunately his medical mask is necessary tonight. Outside of a scene he feels more comfortable with some physical barriers which is precisely why he came back dressed in his heavy boots and leather pants and vest. 

“Mate I’d really like to root ya,“ Jamison announces suddenly.

“Jamison!”

“We can all sit here and pretend that’s not exactly where this whole meet and greet is going but watching you get worked over was bronzer and I ain’t gonna be able to sit here and play friends when me brain’s running through a million things I can be doing to ya instead. Wanna ditch the shiela and see how much better I am at torture than her?”

Yes. Yes he absolutely does. “No patience, probably suck at it.” 

“Patience is just a fancy way of saying lazy. Anyone can string someone up and leave ‘em waiting and wanting more. My approach is more on the explosive side. They call me Dr. Boom –“

“They do not,” said Zarya, looking absolutely mortified by her friend’s behavior.

“Like you would know what men have to say about me!” Jamison screeches, completely offended. “As I was saying! Come have a slumber party with me and we’ll paint each others nails, compare tits and have pillow fights or whatever the hell you do at one of those. I bet you have cute piggie jammies don’t ya?”  
Mako laughs uproariously at the maniac practically bouncing in his seat and nods his approval. The guy’s enthusiasm is contagious and he appreciates his direct approach. 

“Ripper!” Jamison scrambles out of the booth to leer up at Mako, tugging him down to eye level with a grasp at his vest.. “I’m gonna get yer number from Comrade Dayglow and text you the address of where I’m staying. You have ninety minutes to get home and prepare before I’m expecting you at me door. And pack for a weekend mate, there’s too much of ya to enjoy in just one go.”

Mako questions when his libido became stronger than his sanity as he huffs a quick, “Will do, Boss,” before exiting.


	2. House of Sticks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mako shows up for his "slumber party" with the new Dom in town, Jamison. Jamison mentioned something about pillow fights, and "comparing tits," so he's come prepared.

Mako leans into the turn as he rounds the corner of an unfamiliar neighborhood. Flashing red lights from a nearby speed monitor indicate that he might be speeding. In his defense, he took his time cleaning himself before leaving his house. His hair is still wet and will probably remain as such for the rest of the night since it’s trapped in a pony tail; Mako had been in too much a hurry to dry it. Blind handfuls of clothing had been shoved into his bag to make up for lost time. In fact, he might even be ahead of schedule - not that he was excited. Looking forward to sex-filled sessions with the curious stranger? Sure. Excited? No.

His massive fist knocks on the window pane door before him. His other hand holds a duffle bag full of “slumber party essentials.” He’s no stranger to hookups but spending a weekend with a stranger is a bit outside his norm. He figures if Zarya is friends with this Jamison, then he can’t be dangerous at the very least. And if he is being completely honest with himself, about half of his motivation is because he wasn’t satisfied with the abrupt ending to his session with Zarya. 

The ornate door opens and Mako is face-to-face with Jamison again. The wiry loudmouth has a smug grin on his face as he checks his phone. “With ten minutes to spare, I’m impressed!”

“No traffic this late at night,” Mako offers as a grumbled explanation.

“You can just admit yer excited, mate.” Those eyes are back to predatory and Mako flexes his grip on his overnight bag. 

He snorts at the preposterous idea. 

“I ain’t gonna root ya on the porch, c’mon.” Jamison steps to the side to allow Mako to enter. “Is leather all ya own?”

Mako glances down at himself and notes his leather riding jacket, chaps, and huge boots. He thumbs towards the bike parked at the curb. He surveys the house while Jamison peeks out the door at his motorcycle. There’s nothing tacky about the décor but it seems wrong. Everything is washed in soothing blues and neutral tans. Jamison didn’t come off as soothing or neutral. He finally notices a large family portrait that is the focal point of the room. They look nothing like Jamison. 

“Was real difficult ta dig a hole deep enough ta bury their bodies. S’what took me so long ta get ta the club!”  
He levels an unamused glare Jamison’s way who just giggles.

“House swapped with the couple who lives here. They’re crashing at me place in Oz. You was staring at the painting so intense though, just wanted ta yank yer chain a bit.” 

Jamison is standing in front of him now, his hands sliding up his chest. “Besides, I thought ya liked being yanked around a bit.” The collar of his jacket is pulled on sharply and Mako is eye-to-eye with Jamison now. He swallows heavily. 

“Lower your mask.” 

Mako notes the shift in Jamison’s voice and recognizes it as a Dom’s command. He pulls down the cheap black bandana tied around his face and watches the blond. Despite the fact that he’s here to have sex, this is the first time Jamison will see his face. He’ll be nonplussed if the young man decides to be picky about his features and change his mind about their arrangement. His nose is wide and flat, eyebrows thick but trimmed. His mouth is large and his brown eyes appear small and half lidded, giving him a permanent sour expression. His jaw is strong yet rounded by fat. His neck is dominated by muscle and his double chin. He watches those unnerving eyes dart from one feature to the next before settling on his mouth. That severe quality to his gaze is back and Mako feels like an animal being inspected. The nervous tension boiling in his gut makes his blood pump faster. The borderline insecure emotions are a rush and he wants the awkward moment to stretch.

Jamison grins and breaks the tight feeling surrounding them.

“Christ, Mako,” Jamison hisses,“Tell me yer hard limits now, ‘cause these fat lips of yers are gonna be too busy with me knob in a few.” 

Long thin fingers are tracing said feature and Mako allows his tongue to slide out and encircle the exploring digits. He’s mentally drooling at the thought of what’s been promised. He shrugs in answer to Jamison’s question and sucks two of the man’s fingers into his mouth to play with. Jamison is obviously young and therefore must be inexperienced. He doubts there’s much he could do that would push any of his limits. Plus, it’s not as if he’s even close to Zarya’s brute strength. 

The fingers pull away quickly. “Aces! Might wanna take yer riding gear off if ya don’t want it smelling like piss then.”

Mako freezes and stares at Jamison. This is not what he has in mind. He opens his mouth and just lets it hang there, unsure how to react. It’s not as if watersports were shocking -he’s had fun with the act in a few scenes in his past – it’s just, not something he jumps into. 

When the blond erupts into barking cackles, Mako’s face burns as he realizes his mistake. He’d assumed Jamison wasn’t as experienced as himself and by doing so he managed to make himself look like the naïve fool. 

He gets down on his knees before Jamison with his head lowered but eyes on the blond. Jamison raises bushy eyebrows and purses his thin lips; he looks intrigued by Mako’s immediate display of subservience. 

“Sorry Boss.” Mako hopes his quick move to self discipline helps smooth things over. His flippant attitude towards a serious question was extremely rude, and dangerous. There’s a reason the bdsm community holds the phrase, “Safe, sane, and consensual” in high regard. Jamison obviously knows more than he appears to – or Mako is just an ass for his perceptions. He normally enjoys awkward moments - he thrives on nervous embarrassment, but offending Jamison after barely arriving could result in the end of their plans before the even get started.

“Let’s try this again, mate. Markings?”

Oh thank god, Jamison wasn't kicking him out.

Jamison is circling him and has undone the ponytail holding Mako’s silver hair up. He can feel the chilly strands sliding forward, obscuring some of his face. His damp hair helps bring his focus to the Dom’s question.

“Nothing permanent.”

“Body fluids?” The snicker layered under his tone is heard loud and clear.

“Blood, spit and cum are acceptable.” Mako feels his neck and face heat up with a small amount of shame. 

“Anything else needs a discussion.”

Jamison’s fingers are running through Mako’s hair and he wants so badly to lean into the touch.

“Is it safe to assume you enjoy humiliation?” 

“Yes.” Mako’s pulse is starting to race with anticipation. 

“Is hitting okay? Closed or open.”

“Yes. Open hand.”

Those fingers tighten harshly in his hair. “Giving and receiving penetration?”

Mako can’t help but shift where he’s kneeling, all of these questions, while important, are going straight to his crotch. And speaking of erections, Mako’s eye catches the swell of fabric at Jamison’s leg. Fuck. Wait, what was the question again? Penetration? By that?  
He barely manages to croak out an affirmative. Jamison starts palming himself through his snug black denim and Mako can’t rip his eyes away from the obscene outline of Jamison’s cock. He sits on his hands to keep them from reaching out.

“You want it, Hoggie?” 

Mako nods furiously and stares transfixed as Jamison pops the top button of his pants. Jamison’s long fingers play with the edges for a moment. Instead of opening the garment blocking Mako’s prize though, he walks closer. 

“For being a drongo ya gotta keep yer hands under yer arse. And since yer mouth got ya into trouble, it should be what gets ya out.”

Mako had been about to pull his hands out from underneath himself but Jamison’s words make him pause and smile. He is honestly thrilled that Jamison holds him accountable for his actions. He may have incorrectly assumed Jamison was lacking in skills, but he’s not upset to have been corrected.

“Yes Boss..” He leans forward and nuzzles Jamison’s thigh to mouth at the erection straining against the now too-tight denim. He makes his way to the zipper and – except, there is no zipper; there are three more buttons. He growls in frustration, and hears Jamison titter above him. He bites down on the rough fabric and uses his tongue to push the button back through the hole. Mako smirks inwardly as Jamison’s snickers abruptly stop as he realizes Mako’s mouth is impressively adept at undoing buttons. In quick fashion, he has the rest popped open. Mako finds a crease in the denim and tugs it down with his teeth. He keeps pulling until the jeans shift low enough for Jamison’s cock to spring free. 

Mako rewards himself by pressing his face against Jamison and breathing deeply. The uniquely male scent that floods his nose makes him groan appreciatively. He presses heavy kisses along Jamison’s lengthy shaft before dragging his thick tongue along the head of the most delicious cock he’s head the pleasure of sucking in quite some time. He presses the ball of his tongue ring at the slit and grins when Jamison’s hips jerk forward. Mako wraps his lips around Jamison and slides his head down slowly, willing his throat to relax. He feels the head of Jamison’s cock pushing down the back of his throat and he swallows, doing the best he can not to gag. His throat still burns from his near asthma attack before though so he backs off some with a frustrated grunt.

“Oh fuck!” Jamison is panting above him which eases his frustration. “Hog you were born for this weren’t ya?” Jamison pushes his fingers back into Mako’s hair and grips tightly. “Damn slut for cock aren’t ya, darl? Just look at those lips, so soft and big. Must have been bred for servicing men, weren’t ya?” 

Mako is nuzzling Jamison’s sack, blissed out of his mind. “Yes Boss.” He slides his mouth back down Jamison’s impressive dick and hollows his cheeks as he sucks heavily. Jamison lets out a yell and tugs Mako further down. Mako flattens his tongue against the underside of Jamison’s cock, dragging his piercing against the thick vein.

“Oh Christ, you fat piggie fuck, take it.” Jamison hunches over and grasps Mako’s head with twitching fingers and thrusts his hips, fucking into Mako’s mouth. Mako feels heavenly. He doesn’t need to worry about anything but being a sheath for Jamison to use. His limbs feel pleasantly numb and his brain has gone all tingly. It’s easy to just detach from everything and let his mind go blank. It is the warmest, most pleasant feeling when Mako is able to reach this trance-like state. The harsh tugs at his hair force him to lean back and gaze dreamily up at the wild-eyed man above him. The pressure in his throat lessens and he watches Jamison slide out of his mouth, allowing an excess of saliva and precum to dribble out as he pants softly.

“Alright there, Hog?” Jamison asks, raggedy. “Ya looked all foggy.”

Mako opens his mouth to speak but can’t seem to focus enough to form words so he just nods and tries to lean forward again.

“Mako, hold up mate. I ain’t a mind reader, speak up.” Mako remains silent and Jamison crouches down in front of him. “Ya on anything? Ya look higher than a kite.”

Mako groans and closes his eyes, forcing himself to focus until his thoughts come back to him. That’s the second time tonight Jamison has interrupted his blissed out state and he wants to strangle him. “Sub space,” Mako huffs in agitation.

“Christ, warn a bloke next time! Thought ya was O.D.ing mid gobby! Can’t just go all mum on me, we haven’t even talked safe words.”

“Was just head.” Mako feels frustrated that their fun has been interrupted, but he’s also quite charmed by how attentive Jamison is. 

“Wasn’t ‘just’ anything! Yer really made for that,” Jamison crows. “’sides, yer safety should be yer priority mate. Don’t matter how vanilla it is. Maybe Zarya knows how to read ya when ya go all loopy, but I don’t.”

Mako doesn’t remember the last time he’s been scolded this much on bedroom etiquette, but Jamison had a point. He clears his throat and sits up straighter, resisting the urge to wipe his drooling mouth: Jamison hasn’t given him permission to move his hands yet, and he feels as if he’s misbehaved enough tonight. “I can reach subspace and go nonvocal when this happens, although I can still communicate in the affirmative or negative that I am okay. I have asthma and my inhaler is in my duffle bag. Green and red are easy safety words, but I prefer a number scale, running from one to ten, for determining levels of pain or intolerance. The higher the number the closer I am to using my safety word. Boss.” There’s a stunned silence that follows and it makes Mako itchy. He’s not accustomed to conversing this heavily during scenes, and he’s sure Jamison has already picked up on him being a man of few words.

Jamison leans forward and licks at the mess on his face before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Good Pig.” He stands up and grabs Mako’s duffle bag. “Follow me. On all fours.”

 

Mako is on his hands and knees in front of where Jamison sits at the edge of a canopied bed waiting patiently. He briefly acknowledges how grateful his knees are that the bedroom is carpeted.  
“I want ta watch ya undress. Give yer Boss a show, Hoggie.

Mako takes a deep breath and climbs to his feet before kicking off his boots. He unzips his leather riding jacket and shrugs it off onto the floor followed soon after by his chaps. Jamison is lounging back into the plush burgundy blankets while idling stroking himself to maintain his erection. Mako isn’t exactly limber enough to put on any type of performance, but he does have an ace up his sleeve. He grasps the back of his shirt behind his head and pulls it off in one strong tug. He’s almost nervous to reveal what he has on underneath his street clothes.

“Hooley dooley, Hog…” Jamison sounds breathless and Mako feels powerful. 

He pops the button on his pants and shimmies until they slide down and pool around his ankles. He kicks them to the side and stands before Jamison. Pink satin encases and supports his chest in a bra with a little black bow in the center. The matching panties show the ridges of his chastity cage, and Mako makes sure to turn around so Jamison doesn’t miss the heart shaped keyhole on the back. He settles back down on his knees before the bed and bites the inside of his cheek to stop a chuckle as Jamison fights against sheets in his hurried attempt to get off the bed.

Jamison’s hands immediately seek out his chest. “Oh Christ, mate. Look at yer tits!” He pushes the cups closer together, forcing Mako’s pectorals to swell upwards, before burying his face between them. Jamison groans happily and Mako can feel his cock getting uncomfortable in its prison again. The blond appears absolutely delighted with his large hairy chest and gropes whatever his face isn’t currently nuzzling. 

“Change a plans. I’m fuckin’ yer big beautiful tits. If you be a good Piggie, I’ll think about helping ya outta that cage. Tomorrow.” 

Mako wants to weep for joy. Any time he tries to coax Dom behavior out of a sex partner, they’re too nervous or shy to really inflict pain or deny anything longer than a few minutes.

“Thank you, Boss,” he rumbles. His large hands slide over Jamison’s, taking over the responsibility of keeping his breasts pressed together.

He watches as Jamison wastes no time rising from his crouch. That mouth-watering dick of his, is soon pressed between his satiny tits, and Jamison’s lanky torso hunches over Mako’s kneeling frame. Strong fingers dig into his shoulders, giving Mako a sensation to focus on, instead of how uncomfortable his chastity cage has become. Reedy moans reverberate in his ears, as Jamison’s cock slides against the cool fabric and Mako’s heated skin. Holding back the urge to lean closer, so that Mako can taste Jamison again, he focuses on how much the man appeared to be taking his time enjoying how thick and soft his chest is – his firm muscles padded in fat. Murmurings about how it feels like heaven bathe Mako in warm satisfaction.

“So fuckin’ cute mate; can’t believe yer wearing bra and panties.” Jamison is panting heavily above him. Maybe he’d stumbled onto one of the other man’s kinks? 

Jamison’s left hand slides down his shoulder to slip inside the bra cup and squeeze. His fingers find Mako’s pierced nipple and tug harshly, forcing a strained grunt out of him.

“And they’re pierced!” 

Jamison takes a few steps back, hand furiously pumping his shaft. “Show me. Pull yer tits out and play with them. Make me cum, Hog.” His voice has gone high pitched and desperate.

Mako presses the molded cups down so he can showcase his pierced nipples. He rolls the puffy nubs between his fingers and huffs out small moans each time he tugs on them. He twists the hoops until it hurts, and he continues until a low whine escapes his lips. 

He watches transfixed as the blond doesn’t ease up once on his strokes. God he wants Jamison to stroke his cock as well , but being forced to earn his freedom for tomorrow satisfies a deeper need than his own potential orgasm. Right now, Jamison’s climax is more important.

“So close, Hoggie. Gonna explode. Show me where you want it.” 

Mako pushes the bra’s cups farther down and cups his chest. “All yours Boss.”

“Fuck, fuck, f-fu- …Yes!” his voice hits a shrill note and Jamison’s hips spasm as he releases on Mako’s chest.  
Mako elatedly rubs Jamison’s cum into his skin with a pleased rumble. “Thank you, Boss.”

Jamison flops back onto the bed panting. “Any time, mate. Any time.” He pats the space next to him and Mako obediently joins him on the bed. 

He’s grateful the bed frame is made from solid wood and that for once he doesn’t need to worry about joining a partner in a bed outside his own.

“Yer real great. Ya need anything? Whatever care ya need, just name it. Any burns or welts left from Zar? Is it okay to sleep in yer dick cage?” Jamison’s voice is muffled by the pillow his face is buried in.

Mako snorts at that last question and throws a heavy arm around Jamison’s still clothed torso and pulls him closer. “This is fine.” 

With Zarya, aftercare was first aid and a handshake for performing admirably. Maybe a hand on the back for a really grueling session. If Jamison was really offering anything, Mako wasn’t passing up the opportunity to spoon. 

He opens his mouth to ask if Jamison wants to get undressed before Mako curls around him, but the heavy snores barely being contained by his pillow indicate that Jamison doesn’t mind his clothing. Mako figures it’d be safer to just tuck Jamison back into his pants instead of undressing him in his sleep.  
Jamison had only just arrived to the states after a flight from Australia. He’s actually flattered the young man had invited him over immediately instead of resting from his flight. 

He pulls a sheet up over himself and curls around the exhausted Jamison. He looks forward to waking up next to the excitable man and seeing what they could get up to when he is fully rested. He forces himself not to imagine too much though, considering his caged predicament, and instead focuses on relaxing until he too drifts off to sleep.


	3. House of Straw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This weekend romp with Jamison may be the death of Mako, especially when the young Dom shows him exactly what was too scandalous to bring on the plane ride over.

A paroxysm of fierce pain snaps Mako’s eyelids open and he curls in on himself, lamenting emphatically. Pain receptors are alerting his brain that the sensation currently overwhelming him is due to someone removing his testicles rather forcefully.

“S’wrong with ya?”

Jamison stands in a doorway that must be connected to the bathroom; his blond hair is still dripping water onto his shoulders and a toothbrush was shoved to the side of his mouth. He pads across the carpet, clad in green and yellow lounge wear, to inspect what is causing Mako’s distress.

“Yer carrying on like a stuck pig, mate. What’s the deal?” Jamison sets his toothbrush on the bedside table and slides onto the bed to sit beside him, before lifting the blanket up, looking for injuries. Mako had shed his bra and paties during the night and now lay bare before his inspection. “Ya still sore from Zarya? I offered ta look ya over and treat any-... are yer family jewels supposed ta be purple?” 

“Can happen with morning wood. Been a while,” Mako grunts out, not making eye contact with Jamison. This feels weird. His fetish and kink life have been separate from his sex and dating life for quite some time. Having a frank discussion about his caged genitals with another man that he is having sex with is odd. God, he needs to get his key to unlock himself. He’d take Zarya’s full strength over this burning pain any day.

Jamison voice is high and pinched, “Is it a bad pain, or a good pain?”

He’s turned on by this, Mako realizes. He looks back at Jamison and his pupils are blown wide. “Both.”

“Gimme a number, mate.” 

Cool fingers ghost across his engorged testicles and Mako takes a shuddering breath. 

“Seven,” he groans out. He almost wants to lie so that the pain will stop, but he’s getting aroused by Jamison’s interest.

Jamison hops off the bed with an excited giggle and dashes off. “Stay there!”

That’s fine. While Jamison is gone, Mako figures he can just die in agony. The other man is obviously interested in his pain, so Mako doesn’t feel that it would be right to remedy his predicament without permission. Fantastic. 

Jamison reappears, sporting the most wicked grin Mako has ever seen someone posses. His nerves spike and immediately rush downward, causing a small, pained grunt to escape. 

“Ya up for a bit of play?” He asks before bursting into wild cackles. “Not that ‘up’ is the right word, seeing as how yer cock’s a bit trapped and all.”

Mako sighs at the terrible joke, but nods. “Idiot.”

The vicious slap against his steel-encased cock and balls has him bellowing in pain; his knees urgently draw up to protect his tender bits. He feels his eyes water and fights the wave of nausea washing over him.

“I don’t remember ‘Boss’ sounding anything like ‘idiot,’ Pig,” Jamison giggles above him. Surprisingly strong hands shove his heavy legs back down, exposing him. “Don’t move, or you’ll get smacked again.”

Mako takes a heavy, choked breath. “Yes, Boss.” Christ, he hadn’t been expecting that. His groin is throbbing and his head is swimming with an overload of chemical response: adrenaline and dopamine at the forefront. He holds onto those, enjoying the rush and high they provide.

“Wait here, Hog.”

Footsteps drift away as Mako remains still in the canopied bed taking measured breaths, letting the ache dissipate minutely. Stopping the pain would be simple enough. Forcing blood flow elsewhere or simply warming his testicles would give him enough relief that he could relieve his bladder. But Jamison wanting to toy with his predicament only made the cage and attached ring that encircled his shaft and balls pull tighter. 

A loud thud alerts Mako that Jamison has returned to the room, dropping a large box near the bed. Mako watches him as he digs through the opened container, pulling an assortment of small boxes out. They were bright orange and had the words, “Dr. Boom” emblazoned along the side with an odd, yellow, smiley face with X’s for eyes. He pops the lid on one of the larger boxes labeled “Stielhandgranate” and out slides… Mako frowns. It looks like an antique stick grenade from wars long past. The long handle appears to be wooden, but the black top does not seem like the normal metal casing of an old-fashioned explosive; instead, it looks soft.

Jamison looms over him, the odd object held in one hand almost threateningly. “How do you feel about toys?” His voice is breathy and high with obvious excitement.

“No problem.” Oh. So, it wasn’t an actual grenade, but perhaps a sextoy modeled after one. 

Jamison sits beside him on the bed and presses the silicone end of the toy against one of his nipples. Pleasant vibrations begin as the toy massages his chest and draws blood to the sensitive nub. Lips wrap around the other and Jamison suckles at his chest. 

“Can’t stay away from yer cans, Hoggie; they’re so beautiful.”

Mako arches his back and tightens his fists as a frustrated groan slides out. The attention being paid to his chest is magnificent, but it’s making the pain from his cage that much worse. Every little nip of teeth, every flick of tongue, and the constant vibration from the odd toy sends pulsing heat below, but it has nowhere to escape so it’s left to burn him instead.

“Please…” Mako forces the word out between gritted teeth.

Expressive orange eyes flick up to meet his imploring gaze. “Please what?” Jamison inquires, pushing his tongue through the hoop of his piercing. “Endure,” his eyes communicate to Mako, and god, does he want to follow the command. If Jamison could just...give him some slack, he could endure anything else he asked of him.

“Unlock me,” Mako pants out. Sharp teeth bite down firmly in warning. “Please! I meant, unlock me, please? Boss.”

“Ta, but nah,” Jamison snickers and resumes nuzzling his pecs. “Just ‘cause I said I’d release ya, doesn’t mean I meant first thing in the morning!” Jamison runs his left hand through the hair on his chest while his right continues to move the toy in slow circles around his sensitive nipple.

A whine leaves Mako’s mouth. An actual, needy, pathetic, submissive whine. He moves his mammoth hands up to cover his heated face. His fingers tug at his own hair in frustration. He’s beginning to feel overwhelmed; his instinct to take control of situations around him is at war with his desire to remain submissive.

“Hands down, Hog.” That mouth is back to flicking against his puffy nipple and Mako thinks he might start sobbing.

“Need restraints.” If he lowers his hands and exposes his face, he doesn’t believe he can stay in one piece. “And a mask.”

The vibration is gone with a click and he can feel Jamison shift away. He takes deep soothing breaths, willing himself to relax. 

Muscles tense in alarm when Jamison sets his duffle bag next to him on the bed. 

“How close are ya to red, Hog?” His tone is firm and even. It gives Mako something to focus on.

“Eight,” he gasps. Okay, so his breathing exercises are not really working to calm him down. Before he can get worked up over it, he feels bony fingers pushing his hands away as soft, vegan leather slides over his face. He lets his hands fall to his side as Jamison makes quick work of the laces along the back, ensuring the fit is tight. Soon after, a heavy velvet blindfold slips over the deprivation hood (it was a custom order - it’s pink and has a sleeping pig face stitched on). Jamison unzips the small opening at his mouth and ensures the small holes above that are lined up with his nostrils.

“Ya only have chain, Hog. Dunno if yer trying to big-note yerself, or what,” there’s an amused tone to his voice, but Mako can’t see his expression. 

“Snapped the zipties Zarya used to use on me.”

“They was prolly bodgy. What about cuffs?”

“Ripped the stitching in the leather…”

“Coppa’s cuffs?”

“....bent the metal…”

Jamison cackles loudly. “You really are a blue ribbon porker, Hog.” It clinks together loudly as the heavy chain is removed from his bag. His hands are positioned above his head, as the chain is wrapped around his wrists. “I’d attach these to the headboard, but I don’t wanna explain how I broke these posh folks’ bed.” 

There’s a small click as Jamison attaches the lock. 

Physically being unable to remove his chastity cage, or shove Jamison away when he’s overwhelmed, allows Mako to relax into his submission. Hiding his face, and thus his embarrassment, gives him the freedom to emote without consequence. 

Jamison wraps his fingers around his cage and the chains restraining him shake as he trembles. The goddamned toy is pressed underneath his swollen sack and turned back on. A choked whine tumbles from his heavy lips and he digs his heels into the sheets below him, but it’s like running in sand. His feet can’t find purchase and so he’s left kicking in place.

“I’ll leave ya in yer cage if ya kick me, Hog.”

Mako desperately tries to tighten his muscles to keep from lashing out, but Jamison turns the damn wand’s vibrations higher. The only movement he allows himself is his toes to curl.

“Look at ya! Well, I mean, I know ya can’t rightly look at yerself now, but christ! You’re bulging out the sides of this birdcage!” Fingers press along the flesh that is being forced out, in between the thin steel bars. “Bet you’d go off like a rocket if I let ya out. Wouldn’t even need ta touch ya. Just - BOOM!” Jamison strokes him furiously, using the precum that has been profusely leaking from his cock as lube. The wand is kicked up a notch, vibrating intensely against his taint and balls and Mako doesn’t think he can withstand anymore. 

Broken and loud sobs burst from deep within him. Mako strains against the chains wrapped around his wrists and it takes every ounce of willpower to keep himself from turning away from Jamison’s hands. 

The stroking and vibrations stop and Mako’s body sags in relief, chest heaving as if he’d just run a marathon. Little twitches and muscle spasms plague his thighs as he keeps himself flat on his back, remaining exposed for his Dom.

Jamison gives him a moment before petting his thighs and arms, rubbing the tense muscles until they remain still. “That was aces Hog. Good onya.” The praise, along with deft fingers, are a balm for Mako’s overtaxed nerves. The petting and massaging continues for what feels like hours, but has probably only been minutes. Regardless, it helps ground him.

“T-thank you, Boss,” he manages to croak out.

“I’m gonna release ya-” 

“Oh thank go-”

“Not yer cage, Hoggie.” 

Mako groans in frustration but otherwise doesn’t argue further. 

“Besides, yer the drongo that knocked me abilities, said I didn’t have any ‘patience.’ So I wanna see how patient ya can be.” 

Okay, so maybe insulting a Dom’s abilities to torment a sub had been a bad idea. Oops.

His blindfold/sleeping mask is removed, followed by the tugging of laces being undone at the back of his head. He blinks as his vision is returned to him, squinting at the morning light coming in from a nearby window as Jamison undoes the lock and removes the chains from his wrists and arms. 

“How long ya gonna be stuck with yer cock like that, mate?” Bright eyes peered down at him in concern. “I ain’t gonna be pissed off at ya, if ya need to take it off.”

Stiff joints pop as Mako sits up in bed, once again avoiding eye contact. “I can handle it. Just need a hot shower and a piss,” he explains.

Jamison pats him on the shoulder. “I’m gonna have to trust ya on this one. Ain’t never locked me jewels up,” he titters. “I’ll have brekkie ready when you get out.”

Mako watches Jamison leave the room and collapses back onto the bed. What a fucking morning.

________  
Pink-painted toes sink into the carpet as Mako makes his way out of the bedroom in search of Jamison. The shower helped to ease any lingering tension but he still feels exposed. He’s dressed in a pair of Carhartts work pants, and a cheesy pink tank top, that he packed by mistake in his rush. He figures he can throw a more appropriate shirt on once he knows what the plans are for the day. Powerful hands slide his hair back and up into a tight tail. 

Jamison is setting mugs down with what smells like coffee on the short table in front of a large couch. The thin-legged bar stools located at the kitchen counter is all the explanation Mako needs for the odd eating location, and for once he’s grateful that he doesn’t have to explain concerns about his weight to someone much thinner. 

“Come have a seat.” Jamison sprawls out at one end of the couch and picks up a plate. There’s avocado smashed on toast along with diced tomatoes and a poached egg on top and an accompanying side of beans.

“You put any of that vegemite shit on it?” 

“Oi! I ain’t judging ya for yer cute shirt, on account of it being a great joke, so don’t go giving me shit about me taste preferences.”

Mako snorts and sits beside Jamison, straightening his tank out. Zarya had gifted it to him and a winking pig sits above the bedazzled words: “I like my butt rubbed, and my pork pulled.” He was pretty fond of the tank, he just didn’t usually wear it outside of his own home.

A deep inhale distracts him with appetizing smells, so he reaches for his own plate and mug of coffee.

“ ‘sides, I happen to think my tastes in things are right bonzer.” An elbow digs into Mako’s side and he chokes a bit on his coffee. 

“What is with all of the Dr. Boom boxes?” he asks, attempting to make small talk. 

“Oh! Sex toys! Made ‘em meself - no big deal,” Jamison grins gleefully. “Like I said before, they call me Dr. Boom, mate.”

Mako can’t help but laugh and Jamison’s eyes light up in response. “Okay, why do you have so many here?”

The blond dives into an explanation, despite the mouth full of beans. “You seppos have a ginormous sex convention and matching industry! I’m setting up a booth and selling me fine wares to test it out. Zar said she’d help out after me trips over and I go home to Straya. Been thinking about relocating if this works out.”

Mako raises an eyebrow. Jamison seemed so young, yet here he is, pursuing a new market for his own business. It’s incredibly impressive. “So you sell vibrating dicks for a living? It’s not just a hobby?”

Jamison deflates a bit and screws up his face in an annoyed pout. “They ain’t all cocks, ya bastard. And I don’t see ya running yer own business.”

“I’m a woodworker. I run my own shop and create custom furniture.” Mako stuffs his mouth with toast and egg before anything else argumentative falls out. Why the hell is he getting into a pissing match?

“Yeah, well.... I built this!” A gangly leg stretches out and kicks Mako in the thigh surprisingly hard.

A large fist is quick to lash out and grips the offending leg, but halts at the hefty weight. “What the hell?”

Jamison jerks his leg out of Mako’s grasp and sets his plate back down, leaving Mako bewildered as he starts tugging his shirt off. Holy shit, Jamison is made entirely of clearly defined muscle. His fingers itch to reach out and touch what that he believes are the embodiment of washboard abs, but Jamison’s expression is sour.

“I helped design and test prostheses,” he explains in a huff, and points to the unusual seam below his elbow. “I’m testing out a new model for the sheila that helped me with me prototypes. Doc’s trying to make a more realistic looking design. Told her she was daft. It’s creepy. I prefer the industrial look, meself.” All the while, he’s been fiddling with the seam on his arm until a click accompanies the release of the limb. “Right leg’s the same.” He stands there, right arm in hand, with a look that dares Mako to be unimpressed. “Patents kept me comfortable, but I like tinkering. And so what if I build sex toys now? Ya sure as hell weren’t knocking it earlier! What’s it matter how I make a quid?”

Swallowing the food in his mouth, Mako has the decency to attempt to look ashamed. He sets his plate down next to Jamison’s and stands to face him, but ends up towering over him with a scowl. His fingers reach for the arm in curiosity and awe, but Jamison jerks away.

“I’m…- .” Mako closes his outstretched hand and pulls it back with a grimace. This is not going well and he wishes he had his bandana or a medical mask on.

Those intense eyes squint as they bore into him. “I know we’re just rooting, but, christ! What’s up your arse? ‘Cause it sure as hell ain’t gonna be me any time soon if you keep being a right fuckwit !”

Mako drags a heavy hand down his face in an attempt to push down his growing frustration. He leaves his hand there and closes his eyes. “I’m...I didn’t mean...I’m terrible at this,” he groans. 

There’s a long, pregnant silence, and Mako keeps his eyes shut. At this point, fight or flight instincts are screaming in the back of his head. He feels caught somewhere in between and so his mind decides freezing is the best course of action.

“Sit down.” That tone is unmistakable.

Mako’s eyes snap open and he moves back to the couch, but his Boss stops him. 

“I didn’t say you could sit on the furniture, Hog.”

A rough breath of relief pushes past his lips as Mako sits down in front of the couch, facing Jamison. He watches the intense man reconnect his arm, before sliding his shirt back on and then move back to sit behind him. He sets Mako’s plate on the floor beside him and picks his back up.

“Eat.” 

Mako returns to his meal and feels the knot in his stomach release.

“I don’t like using this for problems outside of a scene but you seem really on edge. Did I push ya too far earlier?” 

Taking a sip of coffee to clear his throat, Mako thinks of how best to answer. “You didn’t push too far. I’m just….”

Fingers pull his hair tie out and pet through the strands. “This is a direct order from yer Boss, Hog. Speak up.” 

Jamison’s voice is firm, but not angry, and Mako is grateful for the assistance. Following a Dom’s orders is easier to handle than attempting to describe his emotions of his own volition.

“I’m not used to being intimate with a Dom. None of my partners have been into the same lifestyle,” he explains.

“Don’t that leave you unfulfilled?”

Mako leans back against the petting hand and hums. “Very.”

“Why you fucking a bunch of vanilla wowsers anyway?”

“Thought I should focus on the relationship more, and then introduce them to my lifestyle.”

“That makes about as much sense as me dating a sheila. I can’t just date one and then explain I only like blokes, and expect her to change.”

Mako focuses on finishing his meal while he absorbs what Jamie had to say. When he finishes, he sets his empty plate and mug on the coffee table and moves to set Jamison’s empty plate on top of his. “I’m sorry.”

“If this is too much for ya, we can just have a naughty or, leave the sex out. Or none of the above! I only like forcing ya, if ya like being forced,” he chuckles.

“No. I enjoy it. Please, Boss,” he rumbles.

“Then act like it, Hoggie,” Jamison challenges. That edge is back to his voice and Mako shivers. “Ya can start by washing the dishes, while I grab some gear.”

After cleaning up the mess Jamison made preparing breakfast Mako winds up bound by bondage tape (it sticks to itself but not anything else, which is good considering how hairy Mako is) in front of the couch. Mako’s wrists are held together with the flimsy material and some of it is wrapped around his head to block his vision. His broad shoulders serve as a footstool for Jamison while the man amuses himself on his laptop. No television, he explains, since he thinks his hog needs time to cool down and think. Serving as a silent support for Jamison soothes the remainder of his nerves and he relaxes completely into his role for the first time in ages. 

_____

“Hey, Boss?”

“Yeah, Hoggie?”

“What’re ‘seppos?’”

“What ya mean?”

“Earlier, you said -”

“Oh, riiight. S’what we call Americans. Short for septic tank.”

“???”

“‘Cause it rhymes with yank and yer all full of shit,” he cackles wildly before nudging the back of Mako’s head. “And I don’t recall foot rests being able to speak.”

Mako snorts but falls silent with a smile tugging at his lips.


	4. Little Pig, Little Pig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mako has worn chastity cages before, and for lengthier periods of time. But he's never had a Dom to tease and push him to the edge like this before. After that amazing, but exhausting session in the morning, Mako is anxious to be released today as promised. He gets everything he wanted, but sometimes being a sub means trusting your Dom to give you what you needed instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took two betas to whip this chapter into shape. Thyme is my rock and Scrunchles is my beta guest star.

Fat fingers release bags of groceries onto a granite countertop, quick to grab the onion that tries to roll away. Mako glances over at Jamison following after, saddled with his own bags of food. 

“Ya need to let me have a go at yer bike,” he says as he sets down the rest of their purchases.

“Just did.”

“Nah, I mean, lemme drive it.” Jamison hops up on the counter to watch Mako unpack the groceries.

“Got a license?”

“Course I do!” He braces his palms on the counter, ready to slide off and jump on the motorcycle immediately, but Mako’s massive hand holds him in place.

“A motorcycle license?”

Jamison’s face screws up into an annoyed pout and Mako snorts. 

Tight muscles press against his palm, hidden beneath the fabric of the shirt, and Mako reluctantly pulls his hand away. His Dom hasn’t indicated when he will be allowed to remove his cage so following his urges would just equal more frustration. Distracting himself with cutting an onion and sweet potatoes is safer.

After sitting submissively for a few hours earlier, Mako feels more at ease interacting with present company. When Jamison mentioned a craving for seafood at tea, Mako volunteered to give him a ride to the store. Mako convinced him to give shrimp a try despite Jamison’s insistence that the critters are creepy. He’s fairly certain half of the names Jamison used to point out different foods in the grocery store were just made up on the spot (“rock melons?” “chook?” and who calls cookies “biscuits?”), but spending time doing something mundane with the blond has been amusing, and dare he admit, enjoyable? Comfortable even? He grabs another sweet potato to chop.

“Can I ask ya a question?”

Mako hums in acknowledgment as he dumps the cut vegetables into a pan heating up with oil.

“How serious are ya about the pig thing? Do ya dress up-”

“I’m not a furry.”

Jamison erupts into shrieking giggles. “Now that’s a mental image! Nah, I meant pet play, ya drongo. Live in a cage? Eat yer food outta bowls?”

“That’s for dogs.” Mako can almost hear the rude faces he’s sure Jamison is making at him and the corner of his mouth tugs upwards. He’s always enjoyed the quiet moments in a relationship. Not that this is a relationship, it’s just nice to relax and be himself. Especially with someone that not only understands his proclivities, but celebrates them.

“Smartass. Ya roll around in mud then?” 

Mako doesn’t even spare Jamison a glance as he moves on to cleaning the shrimp. “Does mud wrestling count?” 

“Christ I would pay to see that!” Jamison hollers. “Ya gonna give me a repeat performance? Ooo! Ya gotta wear a tiny bather - a bikini! No! A Speedo! Don’t count otherwise.”

“You saw me in a bra and panties already,” Mako huffs as he dumps the cleaned shrimp into the pan.

“Still can’t believe ya wore that, best surprise of me life.” Jamison’s fingers trail along his sides and Mako tenses minutely; he didn’t hear Jamie hop down from the counter. Feather-soft presses of fingertips force chills to race down his back.

“You, uh-” Mako coughs, “you said we were going to compare tits, so I assumed I should wear something to show them off in.”

“Haha, I did, didn’t I?” Jamison’s reedy giggle is loud in his ear. His hands have managed to wrap around Mako enough to grope his chest. “Ya bring yer lippy and blush?” 

“Nail polish,” Mako swallows. Fingers are pulling his piercings and rolling his nipples, and it’s incredibly difficult to focus on anything else at the moment. He shifts a bit, already feeling the effects of Jamison’s teasing fingers.

“That’s right…!” Jamison draws the word out and his lips feel as if they’re pressing kisses against Mako’s shoulder as he speaks. “Wait, ya actually brought some?”

“Maybe.” 

“Yer fucking cute, mate.” Jamison whispers it against his neck and squeezes his chest, tugging Mako back against his erection.

Mako grunts; his brain can’t formulate a response. Thankfully his body takes less skill to operate and is more than capable of pressing back against Jamison.

The lanky man grinding against him and molesting his tits giggles huskily in delight. “Weren’t ya supposed to bring piggie jammies too?”

“Left them at home. Next time,” Mako banters with a groan. The happy attitude that radiates from Jamison is infectious.

Hands slide lower and claw at his stomach. “Bet ya got a ton of stuffed pigs.”

“More pachimari,” Mako chuckles, his tone barely over a rumble. He interlaces his fingers with Jamison’s which are still gasping his flank, trapping him against him. If Jamison stops touching him, Mako may have to resort to begging.

“I fucking knew it!” Jamison crows. Sharp teeth bite at his neck and Mako arches back, slightly breathless. He feels the wide mouth smirk against his skin before he’s shoved against the counter. “Shit - stuffies, pink piggies, nail polish - yer a Little, ain’t ya?”

Laughter bubbles up past the moan building on Mako’s tongue. “No. I’m not calling you Daddy.”

“I like Boss better anyway!” Jamison cackles and pushes Mako’s head down against the kitchen tile.

Mako gets a great view of the pan and the oil fire building in size. “Boss, the shrimps are on fire.”

“The fuck? First off, they’re called prawns, secondly th- the queen’s bare tits! Fire!”

Mako stays bent over the counter, deep booming laughter overwhelming him as Jamison scrambles to put out the flames and save their dinner. 

___________

Jamison stabs a tightly coiled, and almost charred shrimp with his fork, giving it a look of utter loathing. 

Mako smirks, opting to eat the dish, sans sea bug flambe. The sweet potatoes are crispier than he’d planned, but thankfully he hadn’t added the kale until the flames had be smothered with a lid, so these are tender at least.

“You didn’t have to eat the shrimp.” 

“Nah, ya bought the groceries so I could try prawns,” he replies, emphasizing his prefered name of the little bastards. Again. “Little fire ain’t hurt nobody.”

Mako rolls his eyes and settles back into the couch cushions to watch him. Jamison making outlandish faces at every rubbery bite is rather entertaining. Jamison pauses mid face contortion when he notices Mako’s eyes on him. With a dramatic sigh, he drops his fork back into his bowl in defeat. He grabs Mako’s dish when it’s empty and sets both of them on the coffee table before flopping down against the large man and turning the television on. 

They sit in a comfortable silence while Jamison bounces between channels any time a commercial pops up. The blond shifts constantly until he finally stretches his legs out on the couch and leans against Mako.

“Oi! Make some space, mate!” Accusatory eyes squint up at him, but there’s a playful twitch to his lips.

“You have most of the couch already.” Mako at most is occupying a third of the four-seater couch. Jamison is sprawled across the rest.

“Yer hogging all the hog.” Jamison snickers and shoves Mako’s arm up so that he can drape it back over himself. He lays his head down on Mako’s chest and wraps an arm around his hefty stomach. 

“Comfortable?”

“Very.”

While Jamison fiddles with the remote in an attempt to find something decent to watch, Mako eyes his torso. He wants to touch him. They’ve already fooled around some, but they hadn’t really explored each others bodies yet. And the possibility of being worked up only to be denied still is a looming threat. Throwing caution to the wind, he tugs the man’s shirt up and slides his hand along his side, brushing his fingers against the rise and dip of muscles along his stomach. Jamison rolls over onto his back, offering up a wider expanse of flesh for Mako to explore. Mako takes full advantage as his rough fingers trail across the firm stretch of muscle.

“God, ya got big fucking hands…!” The blond arches into the touch, reminding Mako of a cat. Mako drags a thumbnail against skin stretched tight over a hipbone and the man squirms.

“You don’t mind dominating someone so much larger.” It isn’t a question, as much as it is a bewildered statement. With Zarya, Mako is the only one capable of taking the harder blows, but Jamison isn’t nearly as sadistic as she is, so a small part of him is left to wonder.

“Course not. The fuck that got to do with being a Dom?”

Mako shrugs and pushes his hand lower, brushing against the hair trailing down from the man’s belly button. Jamison’s hips buck forward in response and Mako’s fingers dig into the taut skin as warmth floods Mako’s abdomen. 

“Yer body is perfect, scientifically speaking,” Jamison says with a low chuckle.

Mako raises a heavy brow.

A grunt leaves Mako’s lips as Jamison digs his elbow in his side while rolling onto his stomach. Sinewy arms reach up to grab hold of the larger man’s shirt and pull so that they’re face to face. Attempting to better accommodate, Mako shifts until Jamison is able to sprawl on his belly. That unnerving stare and wolfish grin is back.

“Mate, I almost ‘sploded in me sweats this morning when ya said ya break restraints. And then ya was whining so pretty when I had ya tied up. Yer a big handsome cunt and yer fucking ripper as a sub. No reason both can’t be true! ‘Sides, big blokes fuck better! More mass, means more inertia - it’s science!” 

Heavy hands tangle in Jamison’s messy hair and yank him down onto Mako’s demanding mouth. Jamison squawks and Mako uses it to thrust his tongue inside, his piercing clacking against the other man’s teeth, desperate to be closer. The tongue that twines with his own pulls him further into Jamison’s mouth, where Jamison begins to suck on the appendage. Electricity is coursing through him, his hands trembling, and all Mako can do is hold Jamison tighter as he devours him. 

He pulls away panting, searching orange eyes for any negative reaction, suddenly and awkwardly aware this is their first kiss. Being around Jamison is confusing. Mako can recall numerous instances of dirty talk with a fuck buddy, or sweet words from a partner. Separately arousing or moving. But this is new. It’s the first time someone has expressed an appreciation for him as a whole person. There’s no judgment about his kinks, his body, or his preferences. Mako never doubts making a move, but the young man above him makes his insides twist up funny. Jamison’s fingers tug at his shirt again, encouraging the tight press of mouths to resume, refocusing his attention and setting his mind at ease. 

He lets his hands slide away from wild locks of hair and trail down to grasp a thin ass. Jamison arches back, pressing against his hand and Mako rolls Jamison’s hips forward, forcing him to grind against his gut. Jamison ends the kiss with a nip at Mako’s bottom lip. 

“Imma need ya to root me Hog. Too fucking gorgeous. Too powerful. Need ta feel ya pounding me.”

The idea of finally earning a break from his cage to fuck Jamison shorts Mako’s brain out. He just stares.

“What? Don’t tell me ya only bottom, mate…” He looks devastated, but quickly schools his expression. “I mean, s’fine - can work with that. I’m just as eager to root ya.”

“No.”

“No?” 

“I enjoy both. A lot.” Mako clears his throat, trying to focus on speaking instead of thinking about how amazing it will feel to orgasm deep inside of Jamison. “Just- dying to cum.”

Jamison looks practically predatory as he sits up and begins tugging his shirt off. “Never said ya get to cum, mate.”

“I can’t fuck you with the cage on.” Mako refuses to look at the tightly defined muscles stretched across Jamison’s frame. He’ll lose the ability to speak again.

Jamison slides off Mako’s belly and walks off towards the bedroom. “Never said I was leaving ya in the cage either!” 

Mako lies there, utterly confused, but Jamison’s pants are tossed behind him as he rounds the corner of the hallway, and Mako decides he’d rather be confused while watching Jamison get naked than lie on the couch alone. With a huff, he lifts himself up and follows after. 

A skinny, pale ass with long legs is bent over his duffle bag and Mako sits on the bed to watch Jamison rummage around in his things. He wants to get naked himself, but that will involve taking his eyes off of the young man. The desire to go bury his face between those legs is building the longer Jamison takes, but he’s too tempted by the idea of being released from his cage to risk making a moving without permission.

His Dom stands upright and turns around to face him with a small key in hand. “Cute as yer piggie shirt is, I’d prefer ya naked. And let yer hair down.” Mako nods and removes his clothing as Jamison tosses a few items onto the bed beside him before bouncing beside Mako. 

“Ya ain’t gonna explode just from being unlocked are ya?” He peers up at him; Jamison may be fairly tall, but most of his height comes from his beanpole legs, so sitting side by side, he’s forced to gaze up. Jamison watches as Mako yanks his hair free from it’s high pony tail and shakes the strands loose to fall freely above his shoulders.

“No, Boss.” Mako lies back, giving Jamison room to reach his cage since his large stomach is currently barring him. Mountainous thighs jump as deft fingers dance along his confined flesh. He almost warns Jamison that stirring his arousal will make it impossible to remove the device, but the small click knocks the air out of him. Jamison is still in the process of removing the lock that holds the seperate rings that fit over his cock and balls, but Mako feels freer already. 

A dull thud tells him when Jamison drops it on the floor, but the snap of latex gloves has him propping himself up to peer over his belly in concern. “What’re you doing?”

He narrows his eyes at Jamison as the man pours lube over his gloved hand but collapses back down as the slick hand disappears and Mako feels it slide over his cock. Christ it feels like he’s been locked up forever. It’s only been two weeks since confining himself - he’s spent a month locked up before - but having someone as capable as Jamison teasing him makes it torture of the highest caliber. The muscles throughout his body draw tight like a bow being drawn back as Jamison finally wraps his fingers around him and strokes. Without the chastity device, his dick has room to swell and Mako groans, already feeling tension coiling down low. There’s a tight pressure rolling down his shaft and he’s worried Jamison is attempting to put the device back on. He grunts and tries to sit up -

“Just a cock ring,” Jamison explains as his prosthetic arm pushes him back down. 

“It’s making me lose sensation, take it off,” Mako demands.

Jamison sniggers above him, “Nah, mate. That would be the numbing lube.” 

“...”

Understanding finally sinks in regarding Jamison’s words about being allowed out, but not being granted permission to cum. He grimaces in frustration as he feels Jamison sliding a condom down his cock - yet another barrier keeping him from release. He lies there, even after Jamison’s hands leave him, and refuses to acknowledge the fact that he is pouting. Men his age didn’t pout. Well behaved subs didn’t pout. He has the strongest urge to drag his hair in front of his face to hide behind.

A gasp from Jamison snaps him out of his sullen thoughts and he peeks to the side to see Jamison leaning over the bed, an arm stretched behind him, fingering himself. Jamison catches his eye and smirks.

“Ya gonna help a bloke out, or what?”

Mako is up and dragging Jamison beside him in an instant. He barely gives the other man a chance to pull his finger from himself before Mako has his face buried in his ass. He groans and licks a stripe from Jamison’s sack to his hole. He tucks his hair behind his ears and out the way as he thanks Christ the lube is tasteless. He uses long, slow strokes of his wide tongue on Jamison and holds those skinny legs steady when they begin to shake. He’s pretty sure Jamison is babbling a mile a minute but he’s too focused on how he smells and tastes and feels. He presses a lubed finger inside (he made sure not to grab the numbing kind) and Jamison sags further against the bed, completely relaxed. It makes the task of opening him up effortless and efficient. 

Mako lumbers to his feet when feels a lack of resistance. He watches Jamison roll over onto his back and pull his legs up.

“C’mon, Hog. Shove it in me clacker,” he cackles.

Mako is in the process of dripping lube onto his condom-wrapped cock, but falters mid-stroke, and heaves a sigh.

“Gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Laughter bursts out of Jamison like water rushing out from a geyser. Mako thinks he should be annoyed with the crass man, but his unstoppable energy and humor is charming in a weird way. He brushes a lube-slicked hand along Jamison’s impressive length and that morphs his laughter into choked moans. Satisfied that he has Jamison’s attention back on the matter at hand, he reaches below his gut to lift it out of the way and grasps his cock to line up with Jamison’s ass. He presses forward until he feels pressure start to envelop him. He lets go of his stomach and feels Jamison’s hard length underneath, dragging against it, slick with lube. He stops when he feels Jamison’s bony ass press against his pudgy pubic area.

Jamison’s eyes flutter and his tongue lolls out. “Fuck yeah. Start rooting Hoggie.”

Mako grunts and does as commanded. The pressure and heat surrounding him is the best thing he’s felt in weeks, even if it is dulled. He drives his hips faster in a bid to please his Dom and hopefully push past the effects of the damned numbing lube. The skin where Jamison is digging his fingers into his own legs goes white; his grip is too tight. Mako takes it as a challenge and thrusts harder, trying to force the man to lose his grip. A boiling hot pressure builds deep down as he gives in.

Jamison’s head is thrown back as he howls his pleasure, and keeps demanding more. 

“Fuck, harder! I’m not gonna let ya fucking cum if ya can’t do better than this! Start putting yer fat ass into it and fu-”

Mako shoves Jamison’s legs wide, ripping them from Jamison’s hold, and grips his shoulders as he slams into him violently. He throws all of his gargantuan weight into every thrust. He smirks when Jamison splutters, unable to speak due to the impact of Mako’s thrusts as they force every gasping breath back out of him. It feels indescribable. It’s orgasmic - fuck.

“Ya beautiful cunt, yes!” Jamison hollers like a wounded animal and his eyes roll back.

Nails drag down his arms desperately, as if Jamison is trying to climb away from the orgasm rushing through him. He feels Jamison’s asshole spasm around his cock and hot cum spurt against the underside of his gut and Mako loses it. He slows down but can’t force himself from rocking into the convulsing body bellow him.

“Fuck, gonna-”

“Don’t ya fucking dare!” Jamison commands between huge intakes of air. “Hog, stop.”

Teased and denied for too long, Mako doesn’t allow himself to listen to his Dom and thrusts deeply, once, twice, three more times before letting go and filling the condom with a pained groan. Everything still feels partially numb and it’s not as satisfying as he’d hoped the buildup would make it. It’s like pulling the pin on a grendae in hopes of glorious destruction, only to realize you used a smoke grenade instead - it does what it’s intended to, but there’s no boom. God damnit.

Both men stay in place as they try to catch their breaths, but Mako won’t make eye contact. 

After a moment, Mako forces himself to stand upright and pulls out. He wants to avoid Jamison’s expression for as long as possible so he busies himself with removing the used condom and finding a nearby waste basket to dispose of it in. He moves towards the attached master bathroom, aware of how slick his body is with sweat, but freezes at Jamison’s voice, his tone leaving zero room for disobedience. 

“Hog. C’mere.”

Shit.

With a deep, calming breath, he makes his way back towards the bed and looks up between messy strands of hair. Jamison is propped up on his elbows and does not look pleased. Which is fairly impressive for how physically wrecked, yet satiated he appears. His already disheveled hair resembles something not unlike a birds nest. His legs are still faintly trembling, and despite his stern expression his eyelids are at half mast, denoting how thoroughly well-fucked he feels. Mako wants to feel some pride in this, but his nervous dread effectively weighs his ego down. 

“On yer knees, pig.”

He sinks low before him and watches as Jamison sits up fully to gaze down at him. The narrow face above him fluctuates rapidly between frustrated and distraught. Thin lips are pinched and the inner corner of his bushy eyebrows are drawn up in dejection. He looks almost hurt.

“I’m disappointed in ya. I had more fun planned tonight, but because ya was selfish, we can’t do any of those things.”

“I-” Mako wants to give any reason or excuse to make Jamison take back the words of disappointment, but he knows anything he says will be a lie. So, he accepts that he messed up. “I’m sorry, Boss.”

“During yer time out earlier, I asked Zar about effective punishments. Ya like pain, so I can’t make ya go kneel on rice on the kitchen tile or spank ya. Ya get off on humiliation, so making ya publicly apologize ta me at the club is out…”

Mako is torn between feelings of dread and respect. Standard punishments are always easy for him to handle, or even arousing. Any time he’d tried asking boyfriends in the past to try bdsm, they always defaulted to corporal punishments, which aren’t deterrents for him.

“I noticed ya liked snuggling that first night.”

No. Not that. 

“So ya can either sleep in a bed in one of the spare rooms, or ya can sleep on the floor next ta me, but I’m sleeping in the bed. Alone.”

Mako scowls at the floor; he really wants to go back in time to kick his own ass for this one. Falling asleep next to Jamison had been really nice.

“Which is it?”

Trying to school his expression before he looks back up, Mako decides: “Floor’s fine. Thank you, Boss.” He can’t help the angry grumble in his voice.

Jamison leans down to kiss him and the tension leaves Mako’s body. The toothy smile stretched across Jamison’s face makes him want to melt.

“Aside from disobeying orders, that was fucking amazing, Mako.”

Mako thinks he might be having a heart attack; his chest feels too tight all of a sudden. Hearing his name alongside praise from Jamison is the only response he wants to earn after a session from here on out.

“Go clean up the dishes and then ya can do whatever. I’mma go wipe up and then probably pass out. Was up early. Still not used to yer time zones,” he laughs. 

With a groan of protesting joints, Mako stands and watches Jamison head towards to bathroom. They could be cleaning each other right now, if he had obeyed. He drags a heavy hand down his face in frustration and leaves the room to go clean up the dishes from dinner.


	5. Who's Afraid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What? Nah, I like it. Really. Don’t go.” Jamison wraps his arms and legs around him, suctioning himself to Mako’s side. “Sorry for teasing ya. Honestly think yer ripper, Mako. Like everything about ya.”
> 
> “You don’t know much,” Mako says with a dismissive scoff. 
> 
> “So tell me.”
> 
> “Tell you what?”
> 
> “About yerself, ya drongo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Commissioned artwork of "Let Me In" exists! 
> 
> https://speyersmut.tumblr.com/post/169346005222/speyersmut-dom-zarya-and-her-best-bro-sub-mako
> 
> I'm gay for both Hog and Zar's chests. Mph.
> 
> Please go check out Speyer's lovely artwork - she's an adorable frog.

 

 

 

 

“Wake up. Wake up! Wake up-wake up-wake up!”

Mako groans miserably and tries to roll away from the incessant voice. God, his joints are stiff and achy. A hand grips his bicep and shakes him energetically. He jerks his arm away and tries to get comfortable again. It’s impossible; it feels like he slept on a rock. He peers over his shoulder and finds Jamison looking down at him with a lopsided grin.

“G’day!”

There’s no morning light streaming through the windows, just the soft glow of a bedside lamp. Nope - too early.

“Shut up,” Mako grumbles. Falling asleep had been difficult, and being disturbed from his uncomfortable rest isn’t helping.

“It’s Sunday, so get up, Hog,” Jamison says.

The importance of it being a new day is lost on Mako, but he notes the “Hog” with trepidation. 

“Too early for a session,” he snaps and closes his eyes again. Jamison has only used the pig themed titles when he’s in the mood to Dom. Mako hurts way too much to engage in any roleplay time. He’s too fucking old to be sleeping on floors. He should have just slept in one of the other bedrooms.

There’s an indignant snort above him and Mako fights the urge to grin. Jamison is an overly expressive bastard and it has a way of forcing a reaction from his usually stoic self.

Jamison had left a stack of folded blankets out for him on the floor and Jamison rips off the one currently covering him.

“Just get up, ya heifer.

With an inward rolling of eyes, Mako stiffly moves to a sitting position. He stretches his arms out, his joints bitching and moaning loudly. He’s going to strangle him.

“What?” he says, but it comes out much more like a growl.

“Get on the bed,” Jamison says with a laugh, unperturbed by the growling bear (er, hog) he insists upon poking.

Mako brushes his hair out of his eyes to frown at Jamison in confusion. But he’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he heaves himself to his feet, wincing as his back spasms. He shoves Jamison across the sheets instead of walking around to the other side and climbs into bed beside him. The other man cackles at being manhandled and Mako presses a heavy hand over Jamison’s face, attempting to smother the giggles. It is too early. Mako is too sore. And Jamison is too fucking cute. He steals the pillow from Jamison’s side of the bed and rolls away from him, closing his eyes. If he ignores him, maybe he’ll let Mako sleep more.

A cool hand touches his back, and he almost yells at Jamison to fuck off, but it presses into his aching shoulder blades with surprising strength, massaging some of the tension away.

“Lie flat.”

He rolls over onto his stomach and feels Jamison climb onto him, settling his weight on his lower back. Just the pressure alone feels wonderful.

“Proud of ya, Hoggie. For taking yer punishment without any lip. Since it’s no longer Saturday night, I’ve decided to be gracious enough to free ya from yer persecution.”

The hand is massaging the tight muscles from his neck to his arms, and back. Jamison spends the next half hour easing the pain in his joints. Jamison’s enthusiasm for aftercare leaves him feeling warm and safe. Deep moans of appreciation rumble through him like a purr as Jamison takes his time rubbing away his aches and pains.

“Keep moaning like that and yer gonna be in for a happy ending. Ya want that Hoggie?” asks Jamison, his voice husky and encouraging.

Mako notices the other man growing hard against him, but Jamison has yet to act on it. Mako deeply enjoys rough sex. But the reassurance that his partner is just as happy to be intimate without sex is wonderful. He keeps his face buried in the pillow to hide his smile when he moans and lifts his hips.

“Don’t clam back up on me again. Use yer words. Lemme hear ya ask for it. Beg pretty for me, Piggie.”

Mako feels breathless. Jamison’s voice sounds loaded with sultry, erotic promises. He wants everything that’s being offered. “Please, Boss. Touch me.”

Instead of the dig of an erection, Jamison merely lies along his back to feather his fingertips along his sensitive skin. Occasionally he uses his short nails, sending chills down Mako’s back. Melting seems like an appropriate response, so Mako allows himself to go boneless and just receive.

Jamison languidly presses wet kisses down his back in a twisting trail, his hand slowly inching his boxer briefs down. There’s a small pop as the top of a bottle of lube opens and Jamison lets it run down the crack of Mako’s ass. Long fingers follow the same path and gently massage his entrance.

“So soft, Hoggie. Yer such a wonderful sub. Fucking banger of ya to give me the chance to play this weekend. Yer so beautiful, Mako,” Jamison croons and lies his head down on Mako’s lower back.

Warmth radiates from his chest to flood the rest of his body at the use of his name in such worshipful tones. Mako groans and nuzzles his pillow, aware that all of this pampering is for him. Jamison could have easily allowed him to remain asleep on the floor. It was the agreed upon punishment. Even being granted permission to return to the bed would be enough for Mako to feel spoiled. The aftercare and selfless pleasure Jamison is gifting him now, he feels over the moon because of it.

Jamison takes his time, massaging the outer muscle slowly before even applying pressure. Mako’s positive no one has ever been so thorough or considerate as Jamison is now. There’s no resistance when his finger finally slips inside. Jamison seems adamant about using enough lube and it never once feels uncomfortable or painful. All Jamison uses is a single finger, but he curls it towards Mako’s navel, seeking out his prostate - he gently massages the sides once he comes across it. Jamison slowly circles the sensitive and raised flesh, lovingly teasing and manipulating Mako into expressing sounds of hedonistic contentment.

Mako’s breath develops into hurried gasps - he’s not at all expecting such a concentrated focus. He moves his legs underneath him, trying to find enough leverage to drive Jamison’s massaging digit harder against that amazing spot. Another hand pushes past his heavy thighs and grasps his cock, squeezing him. He grunts softly and lets his eyes roll back in bliss; the only thing keeping him buoyed above warm drowsiness is the bubbling pleasure building up within.

“Please, may I?” Mako asks, voice soft and low. He’s already feeling himself nearing the point of no return. Having his prostate milked or massaged is always the surest way to a fast completion.

“Come fer me, Hoggie.” Jamison’s words are just as soothing, as he rubs his cheek against the top of Mako’s ass. “Wanna watch ya fall apart for me. C’mon, do it. Be my good sub.”

Mako’s stomach tightens at the command, but it’s the desire to be a good sub for Jamison that pushes him across the finish line. He feels as if his orgasm is pouring out of him; his cock pulses with his release over and over. Jamison’s hands stroking and massaging him through it, milking every ounce of pleasure from him. Mako’s body trembles throughout it and he’s left panting and shaking after.

Kisses are pressed all over his lower back as soothing hands wipe him down with a cool wet wipe. Mako rolls over onto his back as Jamison tugs his cum-soaked underwear off, and he keeps his eyes closed, in an attempt to remain in the dreamlike state Jamison brought him to. Mako’s breathing slows down by the time Jamison returns from shuffling around the room. The blonde flicks the lamp off and drags a thin blanket over them. Jamison places his head on Mako’s shoulder and drapes an arm over his stomach, running his fingers over his belly button.

“Thank you.” Mako’s mumbled words are barely above a whisper, ready to find sleep again. He shifts an arm to encircle the other man’s waist, allowing his fingers to caress the warm skin. Having a Dom who is so committed to his role is indescribable. Jamison has only been around Mako for a minuscule amount of time, yet he knows the most effective way to punish or reward. So many people forget about aftercare and Mako is grateful that Jamison is so adamant about being responsible.

Mako’s fingers drift lower in a desire to return the pleasure Jamison gifted him.

Jamison captures his hand and brings his fingers up to kiss them. “Ta, Mako, but this was for ya. Maybe later. Besides, with how much ya was carrying on down there, grunting and shifting, I figured ya was in a fair bit of discomfort, and decided, in my infinite mercy, ya had served yer time. Plus, ya picked the harsher option. Coulda just slept in another room, and had a right proper bed.”

Mako yawns and buries his face in Jamison’s ill-behaved hair, scarcely even conscious. “Sleeping alone would have been worse.”

There’s a long moment of stillness and silence as Mako almost drifts off sleep.

Jamison’s head snaps forward, smacking Mako’s chin as he sits up. “That’s fucking cute!”

“Fuck!” Mako grunts and shoves Jamison off. “What the hell are you doing?” he bellows.

“What ya just said! That sleeping in another room woulda been worse ‘cause I weren’t there with ya!”

Mako can’t see the other man in the dark, but the volume of his voice indicates that he’s hovering just above his face. He reaches out and jerks Jamison back down against his chest, remembering his sleepy response and feeling his face heat up. Maybe if he smothers him in his armpit or his tits he’ll forget. Not likely, but worth a shot. “Never said that. Now let me sleep.”

“Hoggie…!” he whines, squirming. Jamison tries pushing back up, but Mako’s massive hand holds him in place, like the lid closing on an overly eager jack in the box. “C’mon, don’t clam up. Was fucking cute. Yer so domestic, I love it. Probably wanna go shopping for new china tomorrow, yeah?”

The tempo of his heartbeat lurches forward into a jog. This is the time when he’s plagued with questions about his masculinity. Or, as masculine as people think he should be, given his gargantuan size. 

“I can leave if it bothers you,” he sighs.

“What? Nah, I like it. Really. Don’t go.” Jamison wraps his arms and legs around him, suctioning himself to Mako’s side. “Sorry for teasing ya. Honestly think yer ripper, Mako. Like everything about ya.”

“You don’t know much,” Mako says with a dismissive scoff.

“So tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“About yerself, ya drongo.”

There’s a sharp nip of teeth against the fat under his chin when he takes too long to respond. He squeezes Jamison tight enough to draw a squeak out of him in retaliation. He’ll speak when he’s good and ready. It’s not as if he’s scared.

He peers down at Jamison to check for any hint of a mocking grin but finds only the heavy veil of shadows surrounding them. He counts slowly to ten before he latches onto the cool, encompassing darkness, permitting it to slide over as a mask would.

“I used to be in a motorcycle club.”

“Mmmmm, Hog on a hog, in all that leather. Gonna file that mental image for later.”

“That was my club name: Roadhog.”

“Roadhog, huh? Fucking ripper. Think I need a club name now.” Spindly fingers go back to rubbing Mako’s stomach before bopping his protruding belly-button nose of his large pig tattoo. “Is that where this beaut comes from? Were ya a bad boy biker? Ya run drugs or something?" 

Mako snorts. “No. Empire City MC was the first all gay, all male motorcycle clubs. Had to relocate to join. Lived on the east coast in some shit apartment. Found out my appreciation for leather ran a bit deeper. Couple guys introduced me to the club scene. Rode with them for years, as a sabbatical of sorts after building and running a solar farm. Once it became stable, I left someone in charge and took off.” It’s not bad, he thinks, sharing with someone about himself. It feels intimate. It’s as nice as he remembers it feeling from past romances.

“I thought ya was a woodworker.”

“I am. The farm doesn’t take as much maintenance. I let a distant neighbor’s animals graze on my property and in return, they wash the solar arrays. Nearly everything else is automated these days. So I started building things; had to reinforce a lot of my own furniture.” Mako takes a moment to chuckle, recalling the number of chairs he destroyed before learning how to strengthen them enough to support his immense weight. “I enjoyed it enough that I started making custom pieces for other people.”

“Gonna have to order some furniture from ya. Maybe make me a Saint Andrew’s cross.”

Mako’s belly rumbles under Jamison’s hand as he laughs.

Next to Jamison, in the dark and stillness of the night, he can breathe easier. It grants him the ability to speak without restraint. It’s nice.

“What about you? You’re young to have two businesses.”

“Finished secondary school early. Chatted with a Swiss doc I met online, she helped me with a project on prostheses and I got into an engineering program. Loved tinkering with shit.

“Eventually she flew me out, fucking ripper of her by the way, and contracted me for a project. S’where we came up with new prostheses.” Jamison nudges him with his leg stump. “Made sockets that can conform to anyone, don’t gotta customize to fit each person, and folks don’t gotta worry about their fluctuating weight affecting how it fits no more. Material reads the impulses from nerves, don’t gotta go slicing into people. Makes it cheaper for folks too.

“Won’t let anyone try and price gouge it neither. Folks lost enough, don’t needa be poor to have a limb returned. Angela agreed, but her benefactors didn’t much like yours truly. So I came back once the contract ended. Pissed about, tinkered with shit, eventually found I liked making stuff for rooting.” He pauses to cackle. “Don’t mind charging perverts an arm and a leg!”

Calloused fingers rake along Jamison’s side as he chatters on. Mako is genuinely impressed with the man’s accomplishments. He wants to push for more but his eyelids feel heavy, so he shifts onto his side, keeping Jamison close. “How can you be such an idiot when you’ve achieved so much?”

“Mum always said I was gifted,” Jamison says with a titter.

“Aleksandra still expects me to make my gym workout at dawn. I’m dragging you with me for making me wake up this early.”

“Aces! Gonna watch ya flex outta yer shirt.”

“Jamison.”

“What? Yer probably super sexy in the gym, all sweaty muscles and grunting, and-”

“Jamison. Shut up.” Mako lays his heavy hand over Jamison’s mouth and feels the upward pull of cheek muscles against his palm, but he remains silent long enough that Mako manages to find sleep again.

___________________________

 

Jamison obnoxiously pounds on a set of glass doors reflecting the pink sky of an early Sunday morning. “Where is she? It’s fucking cold out here!" 

Mako snorts since Jamison’s appearance is ill-suited for a cool morning. The lanky man is dressed in short green tennis shorts, a loose yellow tank, and white sweatbands with red stripes. He’s wearing different prostheses - the industrial design he’d mentioned before - they’re black with red and yellow accents painted on. His overall look is worlds apart from Mako’s navy blue sweatshirt and pants (Jamison had been devastated by his choice in gym wear: “That’s it? No too-tight shirt ya can flex outta? What about yoga pants? Ya gotta have those at least, mate. Right?”).

Lights flick on inside the building and they watch the impressively muscular form of Zarya make her way toward them. She smiles widely as she unlocks the door, inviting them in. Mako tries not to look directly at her when she steps close for a tight bear hug; she’s dressed in a highlighter blue singlet with chartreuse shoes - it’s like staring into the sun.

A loud whistle echoes in the empty gym, and Mako notes Jamison scoping out his surroundings. “Looks good, Zar! Thanks for letting me tag along with ya and Mako.”

The gym is fully stocked with state of the art machines, along with traditional weight sets, and there are connected rooms that Mako assumes are used for assorted fitness classes. He’s never been here during business hours. He only meets his friend in the early morning. Large posters of Aleksandra “Zarya” Zaryanova in various moments of competition and victory comprise most of the decorations. It’s inspiring for a lot of gym members, Mako is sure.

Mako works on stretching while Zarya gives Jamison a tour. Starting with light cardio to get his heart rate up is important, but he walks past the row of treadmills, and continues straight to edge of the wall and begins making laps around the room. All of the exercise machines are unable to withstand his gargantuan weight, so he sticks to walking the old-fashioned way.

By the time Mako makes his way to the weights, Zarya is busy guiding Jamison through the proper form on the rowing machine. Jamison nods along to her counts until he notices Mako pass by. He excitedly waves at the large man until Zarya snaps at him to regain his focus, and Mako can’t help the upward tug at the corner of his mouth.

Mako sits on one of the benches, carefully setting two barbells down, each one weighing in at 250lbs. He works on completing seated dumbbell presses and seated triceps presses. He needs to finish twelve sets of eight reps for each. He sneaks glances at Zarya and Jamison while he counts through each set of reps. He is rather impressed at how capable the other man is despite his prosthetic limbs. Still, Jamison looks put out - his expression is tied up in a grimace as Zarya orders him to push through a few more strokes. Serves him right for waking Mako up so early.

Mako focuses on solo exercises as he waits for Zarya to join him as his spotter. Once she leaves Jamison to work on his abdominals, Mako begins heaving large plates onto the bench press bar until the weight reaches 410lbs. He readies himself beneath the bar, ensuring he’s in the proper position before he grasps the bar, lifting it off the rest carefully. He manages to make it through his first ten sets without much struggle. The burn in his arms and the sweat pooling in his clothes makes him uncomfortable enough to pause briefly so that he can remove the sweater, leaving him in a white wife beater that fits too snuggly, evident by how it rides up his belly - finding clothes in his size is always a chore. He lies back down and begins the final two sets but a loud shout causes him to lose control of the weight for a moment, requiring Zarya to assist him in returning it to the rest.

Jamison’s eager face appears above him, grinning lecherously. “Move over Zar, let a man show ya how it’s done!”

“What qualifies you as being superior? Your chromosomes? They mean nothing.” She chuckles as he strains in his attempt to lift the bar. Zarya nudges him to the side. “You have much to do to be at my level. Let Mako finish, taking too long of a break will hurt his muscles.”

Mako snorts and resumes his lifting, not wanting to delay his sets any longer, lest he loses any more momentum or progress.

Jamison widens his stance instead of moving completely out of the way like Zarya instructed. Mako struggles with his lift again; he can see up Jamison’s shorts and the man isn’t wearing underwear.

“You should not be nearing muscle failure so soon my friend, what is wrong?”

“Jamison’s dick is in my face,” he grunts, pushing up the weight again, failing miserably to avert his eyes.

Jamison cackles like a hyena as Zarya jerks him away from the bar. “I do not wish to hear about your disgusting penis. Stay out of the way - you are not strong enough to help him if he were to drop the weight.”

Mako pauses after completing his second to last rep, already questioning how wise it is to continue with Jamison nearby as a distraction. He readies his thick hands at the bar again, and sure enough, feels someone, Jamison obviously, sliding onto his lap as he’s lowering the massive weight.

“Gimme a show, mate.”

“Jamison, get off of him!”

“No! He’s mine now! No taksies-backsies!” Jamison grinds against him with a giggle in an obvious attempt to goad Zarya.

Mako grunts in strained frustration. He can feel his arms burn in protest as he struggles to press the weight up.

“This is not proper gym etiquette!”

“How about he lifts me instead! I’d be -”

With a yelp, Jamison is tossed off of Makos lap by Zarya. Mako lies there panting, waiting for Zarya to retake her position. He only needs to finish a few more reps. Then he can strangle Jamison, who is standing at the end of the bench, in a transparent attempt to remain out of striking distance from Zarya.

“Hey Zar, how do ya spell scrotum?” There’s a sly and mischievous grin stretching across his narrow face.

“Какой?” Her Russian comes out harsh and biting in obvious annoyance.

“Memory is piss-weak... had it on the tip of me tongue last night.”

Neither Zarya or Mako spare him a snicker or even a begrudgingly amused smile. Mako glances up at Zarya with a raised eyebrow and grimaces as if to blame her - Jamison is her friend after all. She returns the look, a reminder that he’s the one having sex with that walking disaster. Jamison laughs hysterically, oblivious to the silent conversation.

With Jamison distracting him, his form is sloppy and his lack of attention on the task at hand makes the weight feel heavier. He wants to be finished already and get his hands on Jamison. He wants to shut the fool up, either with a smothering hand or something more fun.

“Ignore the idiot. Add two more for poor form,” Zarya commands and Mako grits his teeth.

Mako risks a glance down at Jamison and the idiot is pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek in a vulgar mime of oral sex. Mako’s nostrils flare and Jamison drops the act to grin cheekily with a wink. He shifts to place a foot on the bench between Mako’s legs and Mako can see up the man’s shorts again. He’s still not wearing underwear and Mako is left staring. He remembers burying his face between those pale thighs yesterday, and how toned they are with muscle. He recalls early this morning when he tried returning the favor, but Jamison insisted it was just for him. God, this morning had been something else.

Mako can feel his body finally reacting and he tries to mask his groan as the strain from the weight. He tries to shift, in an attempt to hide his burgeoning erection, but he shifts too far to the side and the heavy weights follow. He tries to rock the other way, as one arm buckles under the falling weight in a last-ditch effort to push it back up level with his other hand, but Zarya is already grabbing the weight from him.However, Mako can’t stop his momentum before he falls off the bench with a loud thud. His leg hooks Jamison’s prosthetic leg and yanks him on his ass with a yelp.

“Mako! Are you well?”

He grunts in the affirmative, raising a thumbs up from where he lies on the floor, coughing and panting.

“Oi! What about me, ya slag!”

“You deserve any damage for being so foolish!” Zarya lifts the bar with ease and places it back on the rest, scowling down at them. “I would tell you to go shower up but I do not trust the both of you to behave.”

Jamison explodes into raucous laughter. “I’ll be on me best behavior!”

“You are a fool when around Mako - get out of my gym. You will hurt yourself. Or worse, my equipment.”

Jamison doesn’t let up laughing.

Mako climbs to his feet once his breath has settled down. He offers Jamison a hand up, and once he’s back on his feet Mako cuffs him over the back of the head, before looking to Zarya. “What about you? Don’t you need a spotter?” He knows she isn’t really angry (at least not with him), but he doesn’t think he can focus when Jamison is teasing him and agrees that now is a good time to stop. He feels guilty since they normally spot for one another.

Zarya clears her throat. “I am meeting a new client. She is too shy to come during business hours. I offered to help her before the gym opens. I am sure she will be enough reason to get my heart racing.”

“You mean your workout with her will?” Mako raises an eyebrow.

“Ah-”

“C’mon Hoggiewoggie, I’ll hose ya down back at my place! We can play naughty locker room - I’ll be the dashing cricket star and ya can be me cheerleader!” Jamison snickers up at Mako.

Zarya raises an eyebrow back at Mako and he’s grateful he’s already flushed from the workout.

Mako and Jamison say their goodbyes and head out to a bright sunny morning, pausing only to hold the door open for a short Chinese woman with adorable round cheeks. Mako is definitely messaging Zarya later.


	6. I'll Blow Your Walls Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I mean, I know your hog is loud and makes it right difficult ta chit chat on the drive, but - are you angry? Were you wanting to work out longer? I coulda waited outside if y-”
> 
> Mako shoves Jamison against the wall in the bathroom and covers his mouth with his own. The response is immediate and matching in passion as thin fingers hastily rip Mako’s ponytail free before plunging into his silver locks. Jamison is quick to take over and draw Mako’s tongue inside his mouth triggering Mako’s arms to thud against the wall as he goes weak at the show of dominance. He pulls away with a gasp, staring into the blown-out orange eyes looking back up at him. “You were teasing. In public,” Mako accuses.

It’s blue skies by the time they leave the gym and the drive back is not nearly as cold. Once he parks, Mako follows Jamison up to the front of the house and waits for him to unlock the door.

“Ya been sorta quiet since we left,” Jamison says, glancing over his shoulder as he makes his way inside.

Mako hums in agreement and walks towards the master bedroom’s ensuite shower. The uneven steps behind him let him know Jamison is following him.

“I mean, I know your hog is loud and makes it right difficult ta chit chat on the drive, but - are you angry? Were you wanting to work out longer? I coulda waited outside if y-”

Mako shoves Jamison against the wall in the bathroom and covers his mouth with his own. The response is immediate and matching in passion as thin fingers hastily rip Mako’s ponytail free before plunging into his silver locks. Jamison is quick to take over and draw Mako’s tongue inside his mouth triggering Mako’s arms to thud against the wall as he goes weak at the show of dominance. He pulls away with a gasp, staring into the blown-out orange eyes looking back up at him. “You were teasing. In public,” Mako accuses.

“Zar doesn’t count as public!” Jamison says. A raised eyebrow induces an eye roll. “Okay, she counts. But only barely. She’s a damn kinkster and set us up. And I couldn’t help it, you were all sweaty, straining muscles and, hooley dooley, just watching ya got me all wound up. Besides… I thought ya liked being embarrassed.”

Mako groans at Jamison’s teasing tone and rubs his face against the sharp collarbones in front of him, breathing in the sweat from their work out. “I do. But Zarya would have killed both of us if we acted on it.”

A cackle bubbles out of Jamison and he tilts his head to the side, inviting plump lips to explore more. “Was serious ‘bout roleplaying.... Can pretend we’re being watched if that’s what gets ya going.” 

Mako presses sucking kisses along Jamison’s neck and collarbone before pursuing a lower path. “Please.”

“Ya wanna g-” The sounds of a squealing pig interrupt Jamison and he peers down at Mako who is hunched over and sucking Jamison’s nipples. “Think that one’s yours, mate. Ringtone is too cute to be mine,” he says and he can’t help the giggle that bubbles up above his moans.

Thick fingers slide under Jamison’s top to reverently press against godlike abs. “Ignore it,” he snorts. 

But by the time Mako is on his knees tracing every divot along Jamison’s abdomen with his tongue ring, his phone has gone off four more times. With a vicious curse, he reaches for his pocket at the sixth jingle and sees his neighbor’s number flashing on the screen.

“Yeah? ...Fuck. ...No, I keep excess materials. ...I’ll head back now since my crew is off. ...Shit happens, just pay for half, and maybe they don’t get to graze next time. ...Yeah, bye.”

Mako breathes out a sigh so heavy his shoulders slump forward in forlorn solidarity. He slowly gets to his feet and pockets his phone back in his sweats. “I gotta take off. Neighbor’s goats broke some of the solar panels.”

Jamison’s face falls. “That’s right awful luck and timing.” The easy smile he usually carries is quick to return and any guilt Mako is feeling immediately flutters away. “S’okay, work is important an’ all. Shower weren’t big enough for two blokes to play in any way. Can I help ya pack?”

Nodding in defeated acceptance, Mako leaves the bathroom and looks for his duffle bag. He remembers being anxious when he arrived late Friday night, and it’s only Sunday morning but it feels like he’s spent months in the other man’s company - Jamison is an expert at setting his concerns at ease and he feels welcome here with him. Despite the instant connection, he feels cheated out of a longer experience. No romantic or platonic relationship from before comes close to the natural rhythm he finds with Jamison, and he’s not sure he is ready to let go of his first taste of this dynamic. What if he invites Jamison over to his place? For the day. Or, maybe the week. But what if he’s busy? Or secretly he is relieved Mako is leaving early?

Jamison adds the rest of Mako’s discarded clothes into a side pocket in his bag before grasping Mako’s large hand. “I know it turned out to be shorter than planned, but this was a bonzer of a weekend.” He brings Mako’s large hand up and presses his cheek against the palm. “Don’t doubt how ripper of a sub you are. Yer perfect.”

A blue screen appears in Mako’s mind with white text: 

_A problem has been detected and thinking has been shut down to prevent damage to the brain.  
OVERWHELMING_EMOTIONAL_RESPONSE_TO_SINCERE_DOM_

“Come back to my house.” It’s out of his mouth before he can think about it.

Jamison leaps at Mako with a whoop and throws his legs around the man’s stomach and arms around his neck. “Was hoping you’d ask! Guess the polite thing would be ta ask if yer sure but I ain’t given ya the option.” 

Anxiety and doubt drain out of Mako and buoyant relief makes it easy to hold Jamison to himself. “What do you need?”

“Depends on how long I’m welcome ta crash at yer place.” Jamison bites at the thick neck before him, fat padding the tight cords of muscles beneath. “Can fuck off later today after some fun and I wouldn’t need anything, but if my piggy wants ta play house....” He titters and grinds against Mako’s stomach for emphasis, before continuing, “I would need to pack more than what fits on that sex-on-wheels ya call yer hog.”

Mako snorts and scoops up his duffle bag, his other arm still bracing against Jamison’s back. “Sure, we can play house - you can be my pet dog. Hump me enough to be one.”

As they head out of the house there’s an indignant, “Pet dog! Yer the pet in this scenario, ya cunt. And I’m a “root rat” for yer information. Gotta learn ya how ta speak right, mate. Proper Aussie English.”

____

 

It’s an hour of riding; out of the city, through winding roads and past farmland and orchards. Jamison sits behind him, and thankfully he’s lanky so that his arms manage to stretch wide enough to reach Mako’s side, gripping his waistband. When they finally arrive at Mako’s, they drive past green fields covered in long expanses of solar arrays. Two large structures are located at the end of the property. On the left is an old and weathered red barn that has been renovated and now includes large windows and a garage door. Next to it is a slightly newer whitewashed barn with rolling barn doors that are open to show the glass door entrance. 

Mako steps off the bike and helps a distracted Jamison to his feet. The man is staring at the two large structures before them in utter amazement. “This is your place?” he says, sounding stunned.

“One on the left is my workshop, and this is my home. Doing all of the work myself cut down on costs, but it took forever,” Mako explains, suddenly feeling self-conscious. He’s aware that what he’s amassed for himself is commendable, impressive even, but he worries it’s not up to Jamison’s standards or tastes. It abruptly strikes him how desperately he desires the Dom’s approval, even outside of scenes. He ducks down to hide the warmth in his face and scoops up his duffle bag from a side satchel bag on the motorcycle. It’s been one weekend, there’s no reason to get all worked up over whether or not Jamison approves.

“You really built this?” Those expressive eyes are flashing up at him, wide with worshipful wonder. “I know ya said you could do alright with a bit of wood and tools, but you built a house! Didn’t know I was dominating such a skilled craftsman.”

Mako rubs the back of his wide neck and grunts. “Renovated, didn’t build. Barns were already here.” Okay, the look on Jamison’s face, the delight and possible pride, that might be worth getting excited over. Knowing his Dom is proud of him is the most sublime experience he could ever desire. Warmth oozes from his chest and fills the rest of his body with a pleasant and comforting sensation. It feels like coming home after a long trip.

“Pfft, mate, this is incredible. Ya can boast a bit. I would. C’mon! Give us a tour, yeah?” 

An easy smile spreads across Mako’s face as he leads the way inside. He’s excited to show off the hard work he’s put into the place. Over the years, the once-abandoned barn had transformed gradually into a home. He points out the exposed beams and reclaimed lumber serving as the hardwood floors. The back wall consists of brick and mortar and all of the furniture is wide and sturdy. The entire space is open concept, with high vaulted ceilings. The kitchen is still in repair, many of the cabinets without doors, but the attached laundry room appears in good shape. There are two bedrooms: a small guest room off the front entrance with a small attached bathroom, and the master bedroom complete with an ensuite master bath. The bedrooms are plainly furnished, obviously a lower priority until the rest of the house has been finished. That being said, Mako’s bed is an ocean of plush blankets and assorted plushies. Jamison grins at him when he sees the fuzzy friends.

“Still lots of work to do, but what do you think?” Mako asks when he finishes the tour, eager for more praise.

“It’s fucking aces, Mako!” That predatory gleam returns to Jamison’s eyes and a wolfish grin splits his lips. “Honestly makes me wanna test out yer craftsmanship and root ya over one of yer chairs, see how sturdy they are, considering you ain’t got a proper sex bench.”

Coming from anyone else, the heavy accent and slang would sound moronic, but from Jamison the lewd words make him flush from head to toe. Physically he knows he could overpower the other man, but the fact that Jamison asserts himself as the more dominant partner, despite the glaringly obvious size differences, is thrilling. If he didn’t need to attend to the minor emergency he returned home for, he’d be begging for the chance to test his furniture’s limit. 

Jamison cackles in delight. “Your face! You’re so bloody cute. I know, I know. Ya got work to do. We can play later. I’ll just watch the telly for now. Probably find your lube stash, have a wank. I’ll be fine.”

He’s grateful for the ease with which Jamison shrugs off the interruption. After he changes out of his workout gear and into actual clothing, he heads for the door, Jamison calling after him, “Have a good day at work, Hoggy!”

_____

It took most of the day to repair the damages and when he returned he wanted a hot shower, food, and Jamison. In any order. Jamison insisted Mako take a relaxing shower while he made a few sandwiches for them. They are fooling around in the kitchen - Jamison, true to his word has Mako bent over the kitchen table when the call comes and Jamison admits he needs to take it. They move to lounge in front of the rarely-used fireplace. Jamison runs his fingers through Mako’s hair, absentmindedly braiding it while he talks on the phone - an earpiece keeping his hands free to pet. The rhythmic touching and Jamison’s voice lulls Mako into a soft and vulnerable state; he sighs blissfully. Being interrupted by Jamison’s work is worth it if it earns Mako pampering attention, he decides and it’s not long before he slips into a light sleep.

“Hey, Mako?” Jamison asks, rousing Mako from his state of semi-consciousness. When did Jamison start using his name instead of his sub moniker? “Something’s been eating at me since you showed me your house…”

Grey eyebrows draw a heavy brow down and muscles tense defensively. “I thought you liked it?”

Soothing strokes along his scalp return tenfold as Jamison is quick to reassure, “I do! It's just, your place feels so...uhhh,” he clears his throat. “It feels a bit vanilla. Saw some toys in your nightstand and a few frilly, lacy bits in your dresser, but I guess I expected more?”

“Vanilla? Because I’m a sub am I supposed to have nothing but latex and leather chairs? And eat out of dog bowls?” Mako snorted, his tone bristling with obvious offense. He shifts, ready to push up and away from Jamison’s lap.

“What? No! C’mon you know what I mean,” Jamison implores, his hands grasping Mako’s shoulders and rubbing them soothingly. “Didn’t mean nothing by it, mate.”

Mako hesitates against his better judgment. Inviting Jamison over into his personal space still feels like it may have been a mistake. He’s exposed in a way he didn’t realize he would be. There are no safe words outside of a scene and his go-to reaction is to just remove the obstacle by whatever means necessary. “What did you mean then?” he snaps.

Jamison lets out a sigh of frustration. “Just, that it feels incomplete? I know ya ain’t done renovating, but I mean more that it doesn’t seem to represent you as a whole. Yer the one who said ya felt unfulfilled when you left your submissive aspect out of your love life. You don’t even have it at home?”

“Not all of us fill our every waking moment with sex toys,” Mako hisses. Even before Jamison’s hands flinch away from him, he wants to cram the words back in his mouth, swallow the bitterness back down to his soured stomach. 

An intensely dense silence settles between them, making it impossible for Mako to turn around and apologize. It’s too heavy and awkward to handle. He wants to say something, anything to make it less tense, to fix things. But Mako knows himself, knows his temper is as large as he is and once he starts he won’t want to stop until he’s destroyed whatever upset him. So he sits there, quietly.

“I’m going to bed. I’ll crash in the spare room and have Zar pick me up in the morning.”

He should stop him. Apologize. He wants to, but he doesn’t trust himself to say the words right.

Hours later he lies in bed but he can’t find any rest, his mind racing with uncertainties and insecurities he has spent years denying. He’s disappointed, not just in the lack of sex or play, but in himself. Jamison has been the most accommodating and understanding Dom he’s ever interacted with. And twice now he’s mocked the man for his work. He has no issue with Jamison’s chosen industry, it just happens to be the lowest hanging fruit when he feels insecure and needs a target. 

Originally he was daunted by the younger man’s success and drive. Mako isn’t in a bad way financially speaking by any definition, but Jamison has an inner fire to prove himself that Mako finds blinding. He built the solar farm to get away from the congestion of the city. As soon as it was done and required employees? He took off with a gay motorcycle club. On paper, it sounds adventurous but it was the easiest path. Traveling with like-minded individuals, never staying somewhere long, and visiting neighboring chapters; he felt safe and unbothered. Even traveling in a large group, he spent most of his time silently riding, the roar of the road and wind making talk impossible. The BDSM club, Sticks and Stones, was the same. To an outsider, he comes off as bold and experienced, but he never ventures outside his comfort zone. A gay man with a platonic, lesbian Domme? It barely scratched the surface of his itch, but it is easier than putting himself out there again. At least when Zarya mocks and berates him, it’s because he asks for it.

The digital clock resting on the side table reads sometime after eleven. Mako presses the power button on his CPAP (continuous positive airway pressure) machine and slides the mask off of his face. Sleep won’t be possible until he can remedy the situation he put Jamison and himself in. And Jamison deserves the effort of an apology, regardless of whether or not he accepts it and possibly stays. Tugging on his blue plaid lounge pants and sliding into a pair of fuzzy pink piggy slippers, he trudges towards the spare bedroom. 

Mako’s fist hovers inches from the door but he holds back. Maybe waking Jamison up in the middle of the night is the wrong thing to do - could upset him more? Or maybe that’s him being a coward and avoiding the confrontation. He knocks softly at first and then after no traces of noise he knocks again harder. If he hadn’t been stuck awake he’d worry Jamison had snuck off already. 

The door cracks open and an irritated Jamison pokes his head through, his hair a chaotic and fluffy mess. Normally his undercut looked intentionally disheveled, but now even his thick eyebrows looked askew as if he had been tossing and turning. “Can’t leave any earlier than when Zar gets up, mate,” he says with a yawn. 

Mako winces at the return of “mate”; he’d been enjoying the sound of his name coming from Jamison. “You don’t have to leave - I don’t want you to leave, I mean.”

A caterpillar eyebrow inches up.

“Stay. Please. I… I could beg?” he offers hopefully. God, he’s pretty sure his face is on fire from embarrassment and Jamison still doesn’t look appeased.

“I don’t much feel like playing with ya anymore. A sub that pushes boundaries is one thing, but you act like an asshole outside of scenes. Like I personally wronged you, and I don’t remember treating you poorly to deserve any of it. Tell me if I’m wrong. Did I hurt you?” Jamison opens the door wider and leans against the jam, crossing his arm and stump across his chest.

“No. You didn’t.” Mako takes a deep breath and counts to five, reminding himself he decided to not run away. “I’m sorry,” he says gruffly - outside of a scene the words are harder to find. “I… I do have somewhere I keep those things. It’s hidden. Too many negative reactions.”

Jamison’s eyes bore into him, they always leave him feeling exposed but he tries to hold his gaze and convey his sincerity. Jamison huffs in annoyance and closes the door. Well fuck.

Mako stares at the closed door forlornly - he knows Jamison doesn’t owe him anything, least of all his forgiveness, but he was still hopeful. With a heavy sigh, Mako turns to make his way back to his own room. The door swinging open back open surprises him.

“Didn’t put my prostheses back on when I got up. Takes a minute. Running off already?” Jamison smirks at him, dressed only in his prosthetic limbs and a pair of boxers. 

Mako has to force himself not to stare but he doesn’t know quite how to reply so he gives in to the urge to appraise the body in front of him. Despite how successful Jamison is in life, he’s still quite young. His skin is free from the weary signs of age that litter Mako’s body and a zest for life still radiates from him that Mako doubts he himself ever possessed. Opposites attract - god, way to be a cliche, he thinks.

“Show me,” Jamison demands and that tone is there under the surface. His Dom voice.

Mako lurches forward to comply but realizes he doesn’t know what order he’s following. “Show you what?”

“What you’re hiding. Show me all of you, Mako.”

That isn’t intimidating at all, nor did it feel like an invitation to completely expose himself before the Dom, Mako thinks sarcastically. He fights back the urge to snort dismissively, recognizing it for the test it is. As terrifying as all or nothing feels, he respects Jamison’s demand for his full attention. He doesn’t trust himself to speak yet so he nods and heads towards his bedroom.

Mako retrieves the antique prison key ring hidden in the nightstand drawer, Jamison watching him silently, and he makes his way to the back corner of the brick wall where large steel doors with a patina finish hang. He uses the largest mortise key on the ring to unlock the room. Before he steps in Jamison’s weighty prosthetic lands on his shoulder.

“Wait here,” Jamison commands. “In fact, go sit on the bed.”

The instant clench of his stomach implores him to argue, or bar Jamison from entering, at least not alone, without him to make excuses. He silently counts to five again, controlling his action impulse, before he moves to his bed. 

Waiting patiently is torture but he’s determined to prove he can control his temper and lower his defenses at Jamison’s request. By the time Jamison returns Mako feels like a rubber band stretched past its limit his muscles are so tight with anxiety. Every time Mako escapes to a new set of protective walls, Jamison knocks them down. The sentiment is more than he feels he deserves but the destruction of his barriers leaves him feeling like the air was blown away along with the remains of his fortified walls. The sharp tightness makes him question if this is what it feels like to suffer a heart attack or even what dying feels like.

Jamison climbs onto the bed beside him, choosing to sit cross-legged. He drags a hand through his sleep-mussed hair and squares his shoulders, looking as prepared as possible for what he’s about to say. “There is a thick layer of dust in there, Mako. You have a full-fledged dungeon back there and it looks like something outta the middle ages - no one’s touched it in years. It’s beyond even an “in the closet” comparison, you’ve been hiding that side of yourself for a long time. I’m not blind to what’s going on, I know this ain’t about me. You have shit luck with partners. Or, you had shit luck long ago and just decided to keep self-sabotaging until you proved to yourself that you couldn’t have a healthy relationship that involved all of your orientations and needs. I… I feel for ya, mate, I really do. I’d like to help break that cycle. But, I ain’t gonna be your punching bag.”

Finally, the constriction in Mako’s chest subsides and he draws in great gulps of air. He can’t help the hacking coughs that burst forth from deep inside his chest.

Jamison’s leaps to his feet in a concerned panic. “Fuck! Where’s your inhaler? Is this oxygen? Is it still in your duffle?” The young man lunges for the CPAP, tossing the facemask at Mako before digging in the side drawer for an inhaler.

Massive fingers wrap around Jamison’s arm, halting his frenzied movements. He reaches past him and finds his inhaler easily. Mako doesn’t release Jamison as he inhales the puffs of medicine, allowing them to work. When he can breathe again he pulls on Jamison’s arm. “S’okay,” he wheezes out.

“Christ, ya sure? Shit, I thought I killed ya!” Jamison exclaims but allows himself to be pulled back onto the bed.

Mako snorts dryly. “No. Just, shared some hard to hear truths.” He lies back, dragging a pillow over and getting comfortable. He allows himself a moment to catch his breath again before softly replying, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah?” Jamison asks, reclining back and pressing into Mako’s side. If his ear is pressed close enough to monitor the large man’s heartbeat and breathing, no one mentions it.

“Yeah. You’re right. And I was an asshole,” Mako says with a sigh, pulling Jamison closer. 

“Fuckin’ arsehole,” Jamison corrects him with a laugh. 

“I was a fucking ‘arsehole’,” Mako admits. “Are you still planning on leaving? At least let me drive you back if you are.”

“Nah, long as ya can behave yourself like the good little pig I know ya are and just let me in.”

“Behave? Not by the hair on my jiggly chins,” Mako says, stroking the strands of facial hair along his face. He smiles as Jamison erupts into laughter beside him. For the next week, he’s willing to make an extra effort to control his temper and just enjoy the time he has with Jamison. He should be terrified to allow someone in who is only going to be around for a short time, but he wants to really enjoy this opportunity to connect with a Dom. And Jamison is amazing, and worth the potential heartache Mako will be left with once he leaves. They live entirely too far away to sustain any sort of relationship, and at least once it’s over he won’t have any awkward run-ins at Sticks and Stones.


	7. I'll Huff and I'll Puff

A wolfish grin flashes up at Mako as he slides scrambled eggs onto the pair of plates set at the already decked out table, complete with biscuits and gravy along with fresh fruit. Once Mako sits down across from Jamison, the younger man digs in eagerly. “What’s on the agenda today, Mako? Got any more fancy custom pieces ya gotta work on?”

“Finished ahead of schedule. Could take the day off if you had something in mind,” Mako says around a mouthful of blueberries and bananas.

“Hmmmm,” Jamison hums, and twirls his fork to soak up gravy with his biscuit before continuing, “Well, would you like some chores?”

That catches his attention. Chores? He muses to himself. Being bossed around would be a nice way to spend the day. “Will I be considered a Good Piggy if I say yes?”

Jamison chokes on a fork full of eggs before cackling. “Greedy! Already looking for freebies and we haven’t even started.”

The grin spreading across his face is one Mako cannot fight. “Heh.” Nor can he combat the blush across his round but weathered cheeks. “What can I help with first?”

“After we eat, do the dishes. Then you can help me grab the rest of my stuff from the house if that farm truck out there is more than just for show,” Jamison says with a leer.

“Nothing of mine is for show.”

That earns him a delighted giggle. “Too right! S’what I like about you. You may hide behind masks but you act upfront about who and what you are, even if ya don’t always vocalize it.”

__

They spend the better part of the morning and afternoon repacking all of Jamison’s wares and clothing from the house he’s been staying in and moving it back to Mako’s. While it was indeed a chore to lug all of the heavy boxes around, Mako had hopped Jamison would have supplied him with something more… demeaning; domestic even?

So when he finishes setting the final box down he’s delighted to feel long fingers grasp his wide hips and pull him back against a thin but tightly muscled body. “No complaining, just obedience all day for me. Been such a good Piggy already.” Chills race down Mako’s back and arms, followed by goosebumps. Just being spoken to in such a way makes him feel alive, as cliche as it sounds. “I’ve snooped your closet enough I know what I want ya in for the next part, go shower, lube up, and insert your cutest piggy plug.”

“Yes, Boss,” Mako says with a heady groan and wanders off to his shower, already on cloud nine.

_

Laid out on the bed is a whole lot of latex. Mako eyes the maid outfit with surprise; it had been ages since he’d seen it, having left it buried in the back when a previous partner laughed at the idea of him wearing it. Despite the melancholy memory, he smiles as he runs his fingers over the shiny material and thinks of Jamison. The man continues to prove how sorely Mako needs a Dom in his life. 

Mako towels off again - latex being the clingy fabric that it is, he doesn’t want to give the outfit any reason to fight him going on. Given the design, the dress is unsurprisingly black; the top bodice section has a large scoop neck with a white cotton insert complete with ruffled edges. The cut is the reason he purchased it as opposed to the multitude he’s seen with sweetheart necklines. The simple cut feels more masculine yet cute; an odd balance he’s often on the lookout for. The skirt flares out, aided by his impressive gut, and accented by the simple, tiny white apron sitting above the thin white line of trim on the bottom of the dress. Given his body’s shape, the dress sits even more embarrassingly short than intended and Mako tugs the back end down out of habit in a feeble attempt to cover the twisted pink pig’s tail emanating from his rear end. The conservative neckline is almost comical in contrast to the severe shortness of the dress. Mako digs through his drawers until he finds a pair of frilly white panties that have a heart cut out on the back so that his tail is visible. He sits on the bed and takes his time working the latex knee high stockings Jamison chose for him on, followed by the little black and white cuffs that hook around his middle finger. Most of his costumes are custom made considering his size, and having the opportunity to wear one and be appreciated for it makes Mako’s chest warm.

Jamison clearing his throat alerts Mako to not being alone. For an insane moment, he blushes as he turns to face the Dom and he does a small curtsey. Jamison’s presence is naturally dominating, forcing all eyes and attention on him in a room. So when that chaotic energy is focused back on Mako - his skin prickles with barely restrained desire and heat.

“Ya look very pretty Piggy. Ready for your task?” Jamison asks, bushy eyebrows raised.

“Yes, please, Boss.”

“Then, turn around,” he commands,

Mako does as he’s told and faces the opposite wall but there’s nothing to focus on except the patina covered door of his woefully neglected dungeon - oh. Tremors wrack through him immediately once he realizes what the Dom intends for him to do: clean his dungeon. Maybe, once Jamison has left back to Australia and Mako has time to think straight, he thought he could possibly tackle this project. Maybe. There would be no rush though since the only guy he’d met that was into this would be on the other side of the world and - nope. Not going down that path of thinking. Thankfully, a chill, mechanical hand slides along his bare thigh soothingly.

“I know, but I think it's important to take care of this. This is a part of you, Piggy. You can use your safeword if this is too much, but I’d like to help ya through this. True dinkum.”

Slow, deep breaths, Mako reminds himself as he attempts to focus on his Dom, rather than his rising panic at facing the literal and physical representation of his insecurities. Jamison’s hands continue petting his thighs and his mouth is pressed against his exposed back where the dress shows off his shoulders. “I… no.”

“No?”

“No, I don’t need to use my safeword, Boss.”

Pursed lips replace the relaxed mouth of Jamison as he presses rewarding kisses along his shoulder blades. “Proud of you, Piggy.”

Now that Mako focuses on the door before him, he notices there’s a dusting rag and assorted bottles of cleaners for numerous surfaces,polishers for wood, and leather conditioners. God, he’d really neglected his dungeon. He’ll be lucky if any of the leather hasn’t dried and cracked, and the amount of dust alone he knows he’ll be facing is daunting. “Can I use a mask?”

“Is it too much?” Jamison asks as he circles around him to look him in the eyes, searching for something more than nervous trepidation. 

“It… it’s more for the dust,” he admits sheepishly, but appreciates Jamison’s attention to detail and concern. He’s practiced enough in awkward moments that he’s already compartmentalized his emotions and the desire to refuse the situation.

“Oh! Yeah, absolutely. Safe, sane, consensual and all that. You got one handy or need me to nab one for ya?”

Mako knows there is a dreamy smile on his face, but with a Dom like Jamison, it’s hard not to swoon. “In my drawers,” Mako says and points to his side table, “there’s one with a gas mask appearance. The filters on it should help.”

Jamison crows in triumph when he finds the leather pig shaped mask with filters located on either side of the mouth. “S’not as cute as some of the others, but it’s a total beaut. Makes ya look like one of them Mad Max extras. Thunderdome, War Boys and Piggies, oh my,” he says with a snicker and hands the mask over. 

Mako slides it on, mindful of his hair as he clasps the straps at the back, greatful he’d had the mind to style it into pigtails. With the mask in place he feels his submissive nature slide in just as neatly; he no longer feels like Mako the man, but he now embodies Piggy the sub.

He takes the key and the cleaning supplies into his hands and unlocks the heavy door. With one final deep breath he prepares himself and steps inside.

Jamison follows him inside, his presence quickly building anxiety within him to have his Dom watching him. The urge to please him has him searching the almost unfamiliar room until his eyes fall onto a commanding, high-backed chair. It’s made of solid wood with plush leather cushions on the seat, armrests and back, affixed with copper grommets. It’s sturdy and industrial in style, much like the rest of the furniture pieces in the room offset by luxurious and soft details and fabrics decorating the space. Masculine meets feminine, and romantic intermingles with functional and basic design. The room gives off a study foundation with overlays of sumptuous details from the rich black and copper metals to the fur-lined leather cuffs affixed to the four poster bed at the end of the room. 

He snaps out of his distraction from taking in the dungeon and approaches the chair. Providing Boss with somewhere to sit is priority number one. He uses one of the rags to wipe away all of the dust from the surface, then takes his time leaning over to polish any visible wood in the design. He attempts to tug the poofy, too-short skirt of his dress down lower to cover his modesty but a hand grasps his on the third attempt. “Leave it,” Jamison growls at him and shivers emanate from where his Dom touches him and they spread over the rest of his big body. He nods and continues on, secure at least in that his mask is hiding his blush from the display he is putting on with his panties and piggy tail plug on view. It’s embarrassing and leaves him feeling awkward and exposed and oh so deliciously aroused. He switches to conditioning the leather until it feels supple again and he is grateful that his hidden room hasn’t been neglected for so long that he would be unable to restore things so easily.

He backs away once he is finished and nods at his Dom. Jamison struts past him and sprawls out in the throne-like seating. “Good start, but you have lots to clean. I’ll be inspecting every inch with a white glove, Piggy, so you better not let me down.”

Mako nods his understanding and turns around to face the rest of the room, searching for something else to clean. Through the tinted lenses he sees his mask collection, dusty and neglected. He moves over to the display and bows his head in a silent apology. He never should have hid such an integral part of himself. The outside, safe for work appearance of his home is always spotless, but here he has locked everything away. The similarities between his home and romantic life aren’t lost on him. Maybe Jamison is right about opening up. Despite the fleeting nature of their relationship, exposing himself to someone within the scene who can appreciate all facets of his life… it’s been life changing.

He selects a blue, half mask that covers from below the eyes and wraps around the back of one’s head. He wipes the dust from the soft leather front, petting the cushiony, thick fur lining before returning it to its stand. He remembers when he bought it - it was one of his first and long before the room had been built. Mako had brought it back to ask his then partner if he would be willing to try playing Dom/sub.

“You get off on that?” an old partner had asked. “I mean, like, you legit dig that weird shit?”

Mako raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t hear you complaining last week when you were on top and telling me to take it like a ‘good boy.’”

“That was just kinky fun,” he replied defensively.

Or a previous partner who pointed out, “You know people were locked away and had their kids taken away for this kind of behavior. You shouldn’t be so…open, about your disorders.”

A loud clearing of throat from Jamison brings Mako back to the present. “Y’okay, Piggy? Zoned out there for a bit on me.”

Mako set the mask down and nodded slowly. 

“Naw, talk to me. No going non verbal, unless you need a minute,” Jamison orders.

Facing him feels too difficult, he’s worried, irrationally, that he will find the same disgust or confusion. “Just... thinking about before.”

“Yer not with any of those drongos. Only your Boss. Just focus on the task I gave ya. Think of what your supposed ta be doing; the removal of the dust and bad memories, and the polishing of acceptance,” Jamison says. His voice is heavy with command and Mako can’t help but relax and do as he’s told.

The rest of the afternoon is spent dusting, sweeping and polishing assorted accessories and fixtures he’s custom made, such as a sturdy spanking bench and a doctor’s table that Jamison seems eager to watch be brought to original glory.

Mako assumes they’ll make use of the space now that his dungeon is back to sorts but Jamison leads him back to his bedroom and they curl up in bed once he removes his mask. Mako can’t help his bottom lip from sitting heavy in a near pout.

“Don’t look at me that way, Piggy,” he titters. “Baby steps. Not gonna just throw ya back into heavy scenes. I want ya to enjoy yer sense of accomplishment and really accept that it’s normal. S’like cleaning the loo - necessary and functional part of the home,” he explains and strokes the back of a large and exposed thigh currently thrown over his torso. 

Mako nods his understanding. Sex and torture are fun aspects of BDSM, but Jamison’s focus on normalizing it as a part of his everyday life does wonders with his anxiety and self loathing. “I know you’re leaving soon,” he beings, “but this is the closest I’ve been to being involved with someone who…”

“Accepts you for you?” Jamison guesses. “Piggy, yer right ripper. Handsomest bloke I’ve ever seen and a drool worthy sub, once ya get past all yer hangups.”

God, Jamison’s impending departure is going to suck, Mako thinks. The chances of meeting someone else like him feel nigh impossible, and the general ease of their interactions is something he’s always craved. But for now, he can enjoy this. For now, he can pretend. For now, this is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> The super talented Thyme-basalt (of "What's Best For You") was my beta and she's a saint for all of the problems I cause her.
> 
> You can find Thyme's work [here](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Thyme_Basalt/pseuds/Thyme_Basalt)!
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr: [wodensskadi](https://wodensskadi.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A8724BMM)
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer:  
> This story depicts bdsm and Dom/sub relationships. This is a work of fantasy and should not be considered a guide.


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